Poems By A DIGGER----J.RILEY Late A.I.F

DISCLAIMER :
THE PICTURES USED ON THIS PAGE ARE TAKEN FROM OTHER WAR PAGES ARE THERE TO GIVE THE AFFECT OF BEENING THERE & FEELING THE EMOTIONS OF THIS POET. IF ANYWAY I HAVE TAKEN A PICTURE FROM YOUR PAGE AND WANT IT REMOVED PLEASE E-MAIL ME!!

When I'm sitting in my dug-out;'
And the shells are whizzing past,
How I think of home 'and loved ones
And dear memories that are past .

I can see my dear old mother
As she said: "Good-bye, my son,
I will pray for your return, boy,
When your noble work is done."

The tears were falling down her cheeks
As her dear voice bade farewell:
'I will pray to God to guide you
Till they ring that final bell.
"Be a man for dear old mother,
And you'll fill my heart with joy;
When you're, fighting in the battle
I'll be proud of mumma's boy."
So those who have a mother,
Bless her while you may;
You'll find you'll be rewarded
When it comes to Judgment Day.

BACK TO THE TOP

The twenty-fifth of April
We all remember well,
How Australia's' gallant soldiers
Stormed the Dardanelle'.

They fought for home and glory,
Australia's sons and brothers
For the freedom of their country,
Their children, wives and mothers.

Straight up the slopes at Anzac,
Through shrapnel, shot and shell;
But never a man did falter
That day their charged into hell

And after months of hardships
In the heat, the flies and sand,
They sailed away to Egypt
From that Turkish sodden land.

But they left some of their "cobbers"
Who'd fought with them so brave,
Resting on that foreign shore
In a peaceful soldier's grave.

After months of solid training,
They sailed for sunny France
To help their allied comrades
To lead old "Fritz" a dance.

The first "Stunt" was at Fleurbaix
Our boys charged into hell;
Caught by that blinding fire,
Some of our bravest fell.

The spirit of our wounded
It was a sight to see;
They showed the German Army
What the Aussie boys could be.

The snow was always falling.
And the shelling it was bad
From Fleur's right down to Albert
'Twas enough to drive them mad.

Messines, then up to Ypres,
They fought and beat the Hun,
And showed the German High Command
They'd soon be on 'the run.

BACK TO THE TOP

At last I cried: "I've got my pass
To go on Blighty leave,
And I'm out to have a shorter";
I said: "Now get me, Steve !"

So I sailed across from Calais
Across to dear old Dover,
For'fourteen bloomin' lovely days
I'd think the war all over.

Once again amongst our people';
Now I can't forget it, mate,
How they treated all us Aussie boys
0h, wasn't it real great!

And after leave was over,
Back to France we'd have to go
Where the shells were falling thickest,
And heavy flakes of snow.

It was down at Villiers Brettoneaux
They broke old "Fritz's" line,
And started him retreating
Back home beyond the Rhine.
They'd stuck to all the hardships,
And at last they'd won the day,
They'd soon be back in "Aussie,"
Where they'd draw all their back pay.

And now the war is over
Thirteen years or more,
Just cast a little memory
To the boys who fought in war.

For many a one is down and out,
Without a cent "dead broke":
On the twenty-fifth of April
Think of the Digger bloke.

Birdwood wrote a letter to the British G.O.C.
Said I have some Diggers here,
They are too hot for me;
And if you'll take these men in hand
The cases they are sad,
They're always playing two-up
they nearly drive me mad.

Chorus--
It's a long way to dear Australia,
Where we sold our hearts away;
It's a long way to dear Australia,
But we'll get there some day.
It'll be good-bye General Birdwood,
And the Aussie Army too:
It's a long, long road that has no turning,
But we'll see the business through.

Birdwood had affection for this gallant army corps,
Such a lot of doers never wore a uniform before;
But when they get back home again
They'll shout Hip, hip, hooray,
Three cheers for General Birdwood;
we'll draw all our back pay.
Chorus--It's a long way, etc.

S.R.D.!--What does it stand for?
Seldom reaches. destination;
But every dinkum Digger
Knows it helped to make a nation.

When you've polished off your issue,
It makes a man go barmy:
He thinks he's just the soldier
To clean up the German Army.

When you'd hear the bloomin' Gothas
'Dropping bombs down fast and hot,
You swear if you could reach them
You'd stop their bloomin' rot.

The man that first invented rum
Should be knighted by the King,
For it brightened up our Diggers
When they had a drop of sting.

Have you heard the latest,
Bluey ? Now I'll tell you a beaut
. Last night when in a boozer
I got it from some coot:
They've stouched the German Army,
And the war is over too,
We'll soon be back in Aussie,
Now that's fair dinkum, Blue.
This is how it happened, Blue:
The boys near went in fits
When he told of how a Portuguese
Cleaned up poor old Fritz.
He took five thousand Germans
Captured them all on his pat.
It was then I said to Snowy:
"You cow, you're got a rat."
Snowy said: "Now that's fair dinkum,"
'Cause he hadn't heard no guns.
That Pork and Cheese's a hero
To 'capture all those Huns.
Then Snowy started laughing:
I tell you it's no joke.
When he glanced out of our dug-out,
And some huts went up in smoke.
He said: "Gor blimey, cobber,
Fritz's guns have opened up."
Then up went half our dug-out
With a five-point-nine from Krupp.

Digger, raise me on my stretcher,
The time is near for us to part,
Send a message home to mother,
For I know ' I will break her heart
When she knows her boy has fallen
In this dreadful battle strife;
Tell her that I died a hero,
Fighting for my precious life.

Just one word before I go, mate
Tell my mother I'll be there,
Waiting at the gates of heaven
When she climbs that golden stair.
Let me down now gently,
Digger, Life is fading from me fast:
You have been a dinkum cobber
Stuck with me 'right' till the last.

BACK TO THE TOP

Just a little bit of poetry
About my cobber, Pat,
Of when we pinched a jar of rum
And had to toe the mat.

We glanced upon that gallon
And the stamp marked S.R.D.
Pat said: "Listen to me, cobber,
That jar belongs to me."

Pat grabbed the jar and off we went:
Everything would 'a been alright,
If we hadn't tried to drink the lot
And got so bloomin' tight.

But we finished in the cooler
And had to toe the mat;
But we stick to one another
Me and my cobber, Pat.

I And we done our bit together,
And we sdaled our bloomin' fate:
He was a dinkum Digger Pat, me china plate.