In Hospital by Edward Dyson — Stanza

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In Hospital

by Edward Dyson

It is thirty moons since I slung me hook

From the job at the hay and corn,

Took me solemn oath, 'n' I straight forsook

All the ways of life, dinkum ways 'n' crook,

'N' the things on which it was good to look

Since the day when a bloke was born.

I was give a gun, 'n' a bay'net bright,

'N' a 'ell of a swag iv work,

N' I dipped my lid to the big pub light,

To the ole push cobbers I give 'Good-night!'

Slipped a kiss to 'er, 'n' I wings me flight

For a date with the demon Turk.

Ez we pricked our heel to the skitin' drum.

Square 'n' all, I was gone a mile.

With a perky air, 'n' a 'eart ez glum

Ez a long-dead cod, I was blind 'n' dumb,

Holdin' do the tear that was bound to come

At a word or a friendly smile.

Now I've seen it all, I may come out dead,

But I 'ope never more a fool.

I have scorched, 'n' thirsted, 'n' froze, 'n'

bled,

'N' bin taught the use of the human head,

For when all is done 'n' when all is said,

War's a wonderful sort of school.

I've bin taught to get 'em 'n' never fret,

'N' to sleep without dreamin' when

We have swarmed a slope with the red rain wet;

I 'ave learned a pile, 'n' I'm learnin' yet;

But the thing I've learned that I won't forget

Is a way of not judgin' men.

We was shot down there in a dirty place,

From the mansions 'n' huts we'd come,

'N' of all the welter the 'ardest case

Was a little swine with a dimpled face,

Who a year ago was dispensin' lace

In a Carlton em-por-ee-um.

In the moochin' days of me giddy youth,

When I kidded meself a treat,

I'd have pass him one ez a gooey. 'Strewth

On the track iv Huns, he's a eight-day sleuth,

'N' at tearin' into 'em nail 'n' tooth

He's got Julius Caesar beat!

I ain't proud with him ; 'n' I'm modest, too,

When dividin' a can of swill

With a Algy boy from the wilds iv Kew.

Cos I do not know what the cow will do

When a Fritzy offers to sock me through;

'N' it's good to be livin' still.

There you are, you see! Oh! it makes you sore,

When a bloke you despised at 'ome

In them pifflin' days of the years before

Takes a odds-on chance with the God of War,

'N' he tows you out with his left lung tore,

'N' a crack in his bleedin' dome!

'Twas a lad called Hugh done ez much for me.

(He has curls 'n' he's fair 'n' slim).

Well, I mind the days in the Port when we

Puts it over Hugh coz we don't agree

With his tone 'n' style, 'n' my foot was free

When the push made a hack of him.

Now he's paid me back. I had struck a snag,

And must creep through the battle spume

All a flamin' age, with a grinnin' jag

In me thigh, for water, or jest a fag.

Like a crippled snake I was forced to drag

Shattered flesh till the crack of doom.

When they saw me he was the one who came.

'N' he give me a raffish grin

'N' a swig. I wasn't so bad that shame

Didn't get me then, for the lad was lame.

They had passed him his, but his 'art was game.

'N' he coughed ez he brought me in.

I have tackled God on me bended knees,

So He'll save him alive 'n' whole,

For the sake of one who he thinks he sees

When the Nurse's hands bring a kind of ease;

And I thank God, too, for the things like these

That have give me a sort of soul.

There are Percies, Algies, 'n' Claudes I've met

Who could take it 'n' come agen,

While the bullets flew in a screamin' jet.

What in pain, 'n' death, and in mire 'n' sweat

I 'ave learned from them that I won't forget

Is a way of not judgin' men.