free-verse24 lines

When The `Army' Prays For Watty

When the kindly hours of darkness, save for light of moon and star,

Hide the picture on the signboard over Doughty's Horse Bazaar;

When the last rose-tint is fading on the distant mulga scrub,

Then the Army prays for Watty at the entrance of his pub.

Now, I often sit at Watty's when the night is very near,

With a head that's full of jingles and the fumes of bottled beer,

For I always have a fancy that, if I am over there

When the Army prays for Watty, I'm included in the prayer.

Watty lounges in his arm-chair, in its old accustomed place,

With a fatherly expression on his round and passive face;

And his arms are clasped before him in a calm, contented way,

And he nods his head and dozes when he hears the Army pray.

And I wonder does he ponder on the distant years and dim,

Or his chances over yonder, when the Army prays for him?

Has he not a fear connected with the warm place down below,

Where, according to good Christians, all the publicans should go?

But his features give no token of a feeling in his breast,

Save of peace that is unbroken and a conscience well at rest;

And we guzzle as we guzzled long before the Army came,

And the loafers wait for `shouters' and, they get there just the same.

It would take a lot of praying, lots of thumping on the drum,

To prepare our sinful, straying, erring souls for Kingdom Come;

But I love my fellow-sinners, and I hope, upon the whole,

That the Army gets a hearing when it prays for Watty's soul.