Devine came back the other day. <br />We'd planned a great home-comin'. <br />No long trombone we had to play, <br />No fine, heroic drummin'. <br />With two sticks and a milk-can Borne <br />Put up a martial clatter, <br />While Carter blew a bullock-horn <br />Says Tom Devine, with healthy scorn; <br />“Gorstruth! what is the matter?” <br /> <br />We set three colored petticoats <br />From Baker's chimneys blowin' <br />('Tis not the bravest flag that floats, <br />Yet 'twas the finest goin'); <br />We cheered our hero all we knew, <br />No song of praise neglectin', <br />To show our pride as he limped through <br />He merely spat and snorted, “Who <br />“The deuce are yous expectin'?” <br /> <br />They lured him to my shop somehow, <br />And sued for news of battle. <br />Says Tom: “Who rides the mail track now? <br />Who herdin' Stringer's cattle?” <br />A dint the Turk put in his head. <br />He covers with a ringlet. <br />He'd won a medal, so we read. <br />“I might 'ave 'ad it pinched,” he said- <br />“I've sewn it in my singlet!” <br /> <br />Says Cole “But, 'struth, you must 'ave seen <br />A fearful swag of scrappin'.” <br />And Tom agrees “Where men are keen <br />That's pretty sure to 'appen. <br />One night a little bloke from Hay <br />Who plugged a Pentridge warder <br />Got such a doin' that at day, <br />Amazed, they ticked him for a stray <br />Distinguished Service Order. <br /> <br />“Then Sydney Bob was rather vexed <br />With Green—who'd pinched his braces, <br />That was 'continued in our next' <br />In half a score of places. <br />McCubbin threw his grub at Lea <br />(You know how sticky stew is); <br />They fought till neither man could see. <br />You talk of fight—Gorstrike me, we <br />Saw stacks of it at Suez!”<br /><br />Edward George Dyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-tommy-came-marching-home/
