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How Herman Won The Cross

Once in a blue eternity they gave us     dabs of rum To close the seams 'n' keep the flume in     liquor-tight condition;

But, soft 'n' sentimental, when the long, cold     evenin's come,

I'd dream me nibs was dronking' to the height     of his ambition,

With rights of suction over all the breweries     there are,

Where barrels squat, like Brahma gods, in     Mother Hardy's bar.

I had me fit of longin' on the night the Ger-     mans came,

All breathin' lioke a gas attack.

The air     was halcholic.

We smelt 'em in the darkness, 'n' our rage     went up in flame.

It was envy, squealin' envy, put the ginger     in the frolic.

We shot 'em full of spelter, then went over it     to spite The swines what drunk the liquor that was     ours by common right. “If this ain't stopped, 'n' quick,” sez we,     “there won't be left a drop To celebrate the vict'ry when we capture     their position.” I'm prowlin' blind, when sharp there comes a     fond, familiar plop- Swung round a post, a German in a pitiful     condition Looms over me.

He's sprung a cork, and     shales a flask on high, 'N' sings of beer that touchin' it would make     a butcher cry.

Sez he: “Berloffed kamarid, you haf some     drinks mit you.” I meant to spike him where he waved,     but altered me intention. 'N' “If you put it thus,” sez I, “I don't     care if I do.” We had a drink together.

There's a tem-     por'y suspension Of hostilities to sample contraband 'n' other     stuff In the enemy's possession.

Which I think     he's had enough.

That Hun had thirty pockets, 'n' he'd stowed     a flask in each, 'N' presently I'm thinkin' I could love him     like a brother.

He's talkin' fond 'n' friendly in outlandish     parts of speech. “You're prisoner of war,” I sez; 'n' then     we had another.

Ten flasks he pours into his hat, 'n' fills it     to the brim, 'N' weeps 'n' sez his frau she will be waitin'     up for him.

We drink each other's health, 'n' know no     henmity nor fear.

I see I've got to pinch him, but he's out to     do his div. in, 'N' don't care if he don't go home till day-     light doth appear.

Sez he: “I pud you home to bed upside dot     'ouse you live in.” He shakes his finger in me eye: “Mein friendt,     you're preddy trunk!” Then arm in arm through No Man's land we     does a social bunk.

There's Fear afoot.

Comes more than once     the glug of sudden death.

We're rockin' fine 'n' careless where the     rifle fire is breakin', 'N' singin' most uproar'ous, in the bomb's     disgustin' breath,

Of girls, 'n' drink, 'n' cheerful sprees, 'n'     'Herman thinks he's takin' A cobber home to somewhere in an subbub     damp 'n' dim,

Whereas I know fer certain it is me is takin'     him.

Somehow, sometime,

I lands him where he's     safely put to bed.

I wake nex' day, 'n' holy smoke!

I'm pri-     soner with the German.

Me mouth is like an ashpan, there's hot fish-     bolts in me head, 'N' through the barb-wire peerin' is me     foreigh cobber 'Erman. “Ve capdure each lasd nighd,” sez he “you     home haf bring me, boss.” For bravery in takin' me, he got the Iron     Cross!

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Edward Dyson

Edward George Dyson (4 March 1865 – 22 August 1931), or 'Ted' Dyson, was an Australian journalist, poet, playwright and short story writer. He w…

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