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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374770" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Joey’s Job</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In days before the trouble Jo was rated as <br>a slob. <br>He chose to sit in hourly expectation of a job. <br>He'd loop hisself upon a post, for seldom <br>friends had he, <br>A gift of patient waitin' his distinctif quality. <br>He'd linger in a doorway, or he'd loiter on the <br>grass, <br>Edgin' modestly aside to let the fleetin' <br>moments pass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jo' begged a bob from mother, but more often <br>got a clout, <br>And settled down with cigarettes to smoke the <br>devil out. <br>The one consistent member of the Never <br>Trouble Club, <br>He put a satin finish on the frontage of the <br>pub. <br>His shoulder-blades were pokin' out from <br>polishin' the pine; <br>But if a job ran at him Joey's footwork was <br>divine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jo strayed in at the cobbler's door, but, scoffed <br>at as a fool, <br>He found the conversation too exhaustin' as <br>a rule; <br>Or, canted on the smithy coke, he'd hoist his <br>feet and yawn, <br>His boots slid up his shinbones, and his pants <br>displayin' brawn: <br>And if the copper chanced along 'twas beauty- <br>ful to see <br>Joe wear away and made hisself a fadest <br>memory. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then came the universal nark. The Kaiser <br>let her rip. <br>They cleared the ring. The scrap was for the <br>whole world's championship. <br>Jo Brown was takin' notice, lurkin' shy be- <br>neath his hat, <br>And every day he crept to see the drillin' on <br>the flat. <br>He waited, watchin' from the furze the blokes <br>in butcher's blue, <br>For the burst of inspiration that would tell him <br>what to do. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He couldn't lean, he couldn't lie. He yelled <br>out in the night. <br>Jo understood—he'd all these years been <br>spoilin' for a fight! <br>Right into things he flung himself. He <br>took his kit and gun, <br>Mooched gladly in the dust, or roasted gaily <br>in the sun. <br>“Gorstruth,” he said, with shining eyes, “it <br>means a frightful war, <br>'N' now I know this is the thing that Heaven <br>meant me for.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jo went away a corporal and fought again the <br>Turk, <br>And like a duck to water Joey cottoned to the <br>work. <br>If anythin' was doin' it would presently come <br>out <br>That Joseph Brown from Booragool was there <br>or thereabout. <br>He got a batch of medals, and a glorious <br>renown <br>Attached all of a sudden to the name of <br>Sergeant Brown. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then people talked of Joey as the dearest <br>friend they had; <br>They were chummy with his uncles, or ac- <br>quainted with his dad. <br>Joe goes to France, and presently he figure as <br>the best <br>Two-handed all-in fighter in the armies of the <br>West, <br>And men of every age at home and high and <br>low degree, <br>We gather now, once went to school with <br>Sergeant Brown, V.C. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Hayes and Jo, in Flanders met, and very <br>proud was Hayes <br>To shake a townsman by the hand, and sing <br>the hero's praise, <br>“Oh, yes,” says Jo, “I'm doin' well, 'n' yet <br>I might do more. <br>If I was in a hurry, mate, to finish up this war <br>I'd lay out every Fritz on earth, but, strike me, <br>what a yob <br>A man would be to work himself out of a <br>flamnin' job!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now Jo's a swell lieutenant, and he's keepin' <br>up the pace. <br>Ha “Record” says Lieutenant Brown's an <br>honor to the place. <br>The town gets special mention every time he <br>scores. We bet <br>If peace don't mess his chances up, he'll be <br>Field-Marshal yet. <br>Dad, mother and the uncles Brown and all our <br>people know <br>That Providence began this war to find a grip <br>for Jo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</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=374770" data-title="Joey’s Job de Edward George Dyson" data-description="In days before the trouble Jo was rated as 
a slob. 
He chose to sit in hourly expectation of a job. 
He'd loop hisself upon a post, for seldom 
friends had he, 
A gift of patient waitin' his distinctif quality. 
He'd linger in a doorway, or he'd ..."></div>
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