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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357382" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Letter to the Front</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I 'ave written Mick a letter in reply to one uv 'is,<br>Where 'e arsts 'ow things is goin' where the gums an' wattles is -<br>So I tries to buck 'im up a bit; to go fer Abdul's fez;<br>An' I ain't no nob at litrachure; but this is wot I sez:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I suppose you fellers dream, Mick, in between the scraps out them<br>Uv the land yeh left be'ind yeh when yeh sailed to do yer share:<br>Uv Collins Street, or Rundle Street, or Pitt, or George, or Hay,<br>Uv the land beyond the Murray or along the Castlereagh.<br>An' I guess yeh dream of old days an' the things yeh used to do,<br>An' yeh wonder 'ow 'twill strike yeh when yeh've seen this business thro';<br>An' yeh try to count yer chances when yeh've finished wiv the Turk<br>An' swap the gaudy war game fer a spell o' plain, drab work.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Well, Mick, yeh know jist 'ow it is these early days o' Spring,<br>When the gildin' o' the wattle chucks a glow on everything.<br>Them olden days, the golden days that you remember well,<br>In spite o' war an' worry, Mick, are wiv us fer a spell.<br>Fer the green is on the paddicks, an' the sap is in the trees,<br>An' the bush birds in the gullies sing the ole, sweet melerdies;<br>An' we're 'opin', as we 'ear 'em, that, when next the Springtime comes,<br>You'll be wiv us 'ere to listen to that bird tork in the gums.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>It's much the same ole Springtime, Mick, yeh reckerlect uv yore;<br>Boronier an' dafferdils and wattle blooms once more<br>Sling sweetness over city streets, an' seem to put to shame<br>The rotten greed an' butchery that got you on this game -<br>The same ole sweet September days, an' much the same ole place;<br>Yet, there's a sort o' somethin', Mick, upon each passin' face,<br>A sort o' look that's got me beat; a look that you put there,<br>The day yeh lobbed upon the beach an' charged at Sari Bair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>It isn't that we're boastin', lad; we've done wiv most o' that -<br>The froth, the cheers, the flappin' flags, the giddy wavin' 'at.<br>Sich things is childish memories; we blush to 'ave 'em told,<br>Fer we 'ave seen our wounded, Mick, an' it 'as made us old.<br>We ain't growed soggy wiv regret, we ain't swelled out wiv pride;<br>But we 'ave seen it's up to us to lay our toys aside.<br>An' it wus you that taught us, Mick, we've growed too old fer play,<br>An' everlastin' picter shows, an' going' down the Bay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>An', as grown man dreams at times uv boy'ood days gone by,<br>So, when we're feelin' crook, I s'pose, we'll sometimes sit an' sigh.<br>But as a clean lad takes the ring wiv mind an' 'eart serene,<br>So I am 'opin' we will fight to make our man'ood clean.<br>When orl the stoushin's over, Mick, there's 'eaps o' work to do:<br>An' in the peaceful scraps to come we'll still be needin' you.<br>We will be needin' you the more fer wot yeh've seen an' done;<br>Fer you were born a Builder, lad, an' we 'ave jist begun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>There's bin a lot o' tork, ole mate, uv wot we owe to you,<br>An' wot yeh've braved an' done fer us, an' wot we mean to do.<br>We've 'ailed you boys as 'eroes, Mick, an' torked uv just reward<br>When you 'ave done the job yer at an' slung aside the sword.<br>I guess it makes yeh think a bit, an' weigh this gaudy praise;<br>Fer even 'eroes 'ave to eat, an' - there is other days:<br>The days to come when we don't need no bonzer boys to fight:<br>When the flamin' picnic's over an' the Leeuwin looms in sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then there's another fight to fight, an' you will find it tough<br>To sling the Kharki clobber fer the plain civilian stuff.<br>When orl the cheerin' dies away, an' 'ero-worship flops,<br>Yeh'll 'ave to face the ole tame life - 'ard yakker or 'ard cops.<br>But, lad, yer land is wantin' yeh, an' wantin' each strong son<br>To fight the fight that never knows the firin' uv a gun:<br>The steady fight, when orl you boys will show wot you are worth,<br>An' punch a cow on Yarra Flats or drive a quill in Perth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The gilt is on the wattle, Mick, young leaves is on the trees,<br>An' the bush birds in the gullies swap the ole sweet melerdies;<br>There's a good, green land awaitin' you when you come 'ome again<br>To swing a pick at Ballarat or ride Yarrowie Plain.<br>The streets is gay wiv dafferdils - but, haggard in the sun,<br>A wounded soljer passes; an' we know ole days is done;<br>Fer somew'ere down inside us, lad, is somethin' you put there<br>The day yeh swung a dirty left, fer us, at Sari Bair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357382" data-title="A Letter to the Front de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="I 'ave written Mick a letter in reply to one uv 'is,
Where 'e arsts 'ow things is goin' where the gums an' wattles is -
So I tries to buck 'im up a bit; to go fer Abdul's fez;
An' I ain't no nob at litrachure; but this is wot I sez:


I suppose yo..."></div>
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