Oh 'Im an' It an' 'Er Since Adam an' Eve began, So I'd rather fight with the bacheler An' be nursed by the married man! LICHTENBERG. (N.S.W. CONTINGENT.) SMELLS are surer than sounds or sights That whisper, "Old man, come back.” That must be why the big things pass And the little things remain, Like the smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg, Riding in, in the rain. There was some silly fire on the flank And we were doing escort-duty To somebody's baggage-train, And I smelt wattle by Lichtenberg- It was all Australia to me- Every face I was crazy to see, And every woman I'd kissed: All that I shouldn't ha' done, God knows! That smell of the wattle round Lichtenberg, And I saw Sydney the same as ever, The picnics and brass-bands; And the little homestead on Hunter River And my new vines joining hands. It all came over me in one act Quick as a shot through the brain With the smell of the wattle round Lichtenberg, Riding in, in the rain. I have forgotten a hundred fights, But one I shall not forget With the raindrops bunging up my sights And my eyes bunged up with wet; And through the crack and the stink of the cordite (Ah Christ! My country again!) The smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg, STELLENBOSH. (COMPOSITE COLUMNS.) THE General 'eard the firin' on the flank, An' 'e sent a mounted man to bring 'im back The silly, pushin' person's name an' rank 'Oo'd dared to answer Brother Boer's attack. For there might 'ave been a serious engagement, An' 'e might 'ave wasted 'alf a dozen men: So 'e ordered 'im to stop 'is operations round the kopjes, An' 'e told 'im off before the Staff at ten! And it all goes into the laundry, But it never comes out in the wash, 'Ow we're sugared about by the old men ('Eavy-sterned amateur old men!) That 'amper an' 'inder an' scold men For fear o' Stellenbosh! |