Oh Julie Claire was very fair, Yet generous as well, And many a lad of metal had A saucy tale to tell Of sultry squeeze beneath the tree…

In the moonless, misty night, with… I am sitting by the camp—fire’s fa… Oh, the dew is falling chill on th… And the breakers in the bay are mo… The toilful hours are sped, the bo…

The sheep are in the silver wood, The cows are in the broom; The goats are in the wild mountain And won’t be home by noon. My mother sang that olden tune

To—day within a grog—shop near I saw a newly captured linnet, Who beat against his cage in fear, And fell exhausted every minute; And when I asked the fellow there

In the Northland there were three Pukka Pliers of the pen; Two of them had Fame in fee And were loud and lusty men; By them like a shrimp was I —

That Barret, the painter of pictu… And Fanning, the maker of music,… And Harley, the writer of stories… To hark to their talk in the trenc… Of the day when the war would be o…

When I am dead I will not care Forever more, If sky be radiantly fair Or tempest roar. If my life—hoard in sin be spent,

I love the cheery bustle Of children round the house, The tidy maids a—hustle, The chatter of my spouse; The laughter and the singing,

I took the clock down from the she… “At eight,” said I, “I shoot myse… It lacked a minute of the hour, And as I waited all a—cower, A skinful of black, boding pain,

Gas got me in the first World War… And all my mates at rest are laid. I felt I might survive them for I am a gardener by trade. My life is in the open air,

“There’s something in your face,… There’s something quare that wasn’… “It’s just the Army life, mother,… That puts the stiffinin’ in yer sp… “There’s something in your eyes,…

A Belgian Priest—Soldier Speaks; GURR! You cochon! Stand and fig… Show your mettle! Snarl and bite! Spawn of an accursed race, Turn and meet me face to face!

In kindergarten classed Dislike they knew; And as the years went past It grew and grew; Until in maidenhood

Pedlar’s coming down the street, Housewives beat a swift retreat. Don’t you answer to the bell; Heedless what she has to sell. Just discreetly go inside.

Give me a cabin in the woods Where not a human soul intrudes; Where I can sit beside a stream Beneath a balsam bough and deam, And every morning see arise