Edward Dyson

What price yer humble,
Dicko Smith, in gaudy putties girt, With sand-blight in his optics, and much leaner than he started,
Round the 'Oly Land cavorting in three- quarters of a shirt, And imposin' on the natives ez one Dick the Lion 'Ea...

WE’VE a tale to tell you of a spavined emit, A bird with a smile like a crack in a hat,
Who was owned by M‘Cue, of the township of Whroo, The county of Rodney—his front name was Pat
The bird was a dandy, although a bit bandy, Her knees, ...

The Viennese authorities have melted down the great bell in St
Stephen's to supply metal for guns or muntions
Every poor village has made a similar gift
—Lokal Anzeiger

I said: “I leave my bit of land-   In khaki they've entwined me,
I go abroad to lend a hand
” Said she: “My love,
I understand

‘I’M
FF on the wallaby
’ cries Old Ben,    And his pipe is lit, and his swag is rolled;‘There is nothing here for us old-time men,    But up north,
I hear, they are on the gold

UT of work and out of money—out of friends that means, you bet—Out of firewood, togs and tucker, out of everything but debt—And I loathe the barren pavements, and the crowds a fellow meets,
And the maddening repetition of the suffocating stre...

Back again 'n' nothin' missin' barrin' arf a hand,
Where an Abdul bit me, chokin' in the Holy Land
'Struth, they got some dirty fighters in the Moslem pack,
Bull-nosed slugs their sneakin' snipers spat ters in yer back Blows a gapin...