En Avant
(“Let us be going”)
There’s a voice from ’way down under,
Ringing ’round the circling foam,
And it says, in tones of thunder —
“Send, at once, my Bushmen home!”
’Tis Australia that’s calling,
And we echo, everyone,
Sick of this ignoble brawling —
“Send us home; our work is done!”
In the hour of Britain’s trial,
When successful foes assailed,
And the noblest self-denial
And heroic courage failed,
Never one did flinch or falter,
But we bared our bosoms leal
On the sacrificial altar
Of our nation’s common weal.
Through the marches, fever haunted,
Whence pale Death chill arrows drew,
And his ghostly banner flaunted
Ever on our straining view;
Onward, where the straight neck rested
Far below each frowning height,
We have hewn a path and wrested
Vict’ry in our foes’ despite.
And the brown veld knows us, passing,
And our foeman know us too,
On their rocky kopjes massing,
For our bullets travel true.
So they greet us when they meet us,
Along the distant way,
[Missing Line]
Is that they’ve found that it will pay.
On our native hills and sandy plains,
In peaceful lands afar,
We learned things that come in handy
In the deadly game of war.
For in tracking, dodging, feinting —
Tricks which every huntsman knows —
Lies the art of circumventing
Still more cunning human foes.
Well enough for child or zeny
To be dumbly, blindly, led,
Governed like a tossed-up penny —
Tail, defeat; a victory, head.
Independent thought and action,
Trending to a given goal,
Bind together sum and fraction
In a strong, cohesive whole.
Strange that, for these vital factors,
In our measure of success,
Academical detractors
Condemnation strong express.
True, we don’t go ‘Nap’ on polish-,
Soldiers’ business is to kill,
And we’d cheerfully abolish
Half the service form and drill.
Though the vile ‘by numbers’ racket
I may aptly use in rhyme,
Plain horse-sense, with pluck to back it,
Suits the Bushmen every time.
Of mere regimental antics
We are wearied, and would fain
Quit these senseless corybantics
And take to the bush again.
Pleased for once, we’ll do a double
To the stations in the west,
Where the non-coms cease to trouble
And a fellow gets a rest
Bosses there don’t care a (blessing)
Whether Smith keep step with Jones,
And there’s no ‘eyes right’ and dressing
Heelpegs, nosebags, saddles, stones.
We can sit the war-horse fairly
When we’re out ‘upon our own’,
And a ‘want of training’ rarely
Proves the ‘power behind the thrown’;
But we’re bound to take a tumble
When red tape replaces brains
And some military bumble
Comes and takes away the reins.
Not so much we blame the person
When official acts annoy;
What we stop to heave a curse on
Is the system they employ,
With its hidebound regulations,
And its blind obedience rules —
Well designed abominations
For the stock-in-trade of fools.
True, the starred, an ill-starred Johnny,
Dollars many, gumption ‘nix’,
Though in drill book lore a Don,
He caps the blessed bag of tricks.
For these embryo tacticians
Humbug hath attractions rare
And the ‘Army’s best traditions’
Find their best exponents there.
Such may form a theme for joking,
But the humour’s not so gay
When we find John Bull revoking
As to our Rhodesian pay.
Things are crooked with an Empire
Upon which the sun never sets
When the military vampire
Cannot pay its lawful debts.
I’ve no wish to pose as mentor
In respect to shady modes
Shown by that financial centaur
Johnny Ball and Cecil Rhodes,
But his paper credit’s riddled
Since he broke his bond to pay,
And we’re dished and jerry diddled
Out of sixty pence a day.
Thus, we’re ‘fed up’. Others phrase it
In a manner less polite,
Which, being the sad case, it
Wouldn’t do for me to write.
So I’ll wind up with a chorus,
And all hands will join the strain —
We have other work before us:
Kindly send us home again!
Epilogue
Away, my bush-bred Pegasus! My nimble brumby go!
Let’s spread aboard the joyful news all Bushmen long to know: For fourteen months we’ve battled with the drill book and the Boer, And which has been our direst foe I cannot tell, I’m sure; At all event we’ve knocked both out and now, our troubles past, Fling up your hat and kick it, boys —
We’re going home at last!
Trooper Fred H. Wyse
1st Australian Bushmen
(AWM 3 DRL 6070A)
When Other Lips and Other Hearts
When other lips and other hearts their tales of love shall tell
In language whose excess imparts the power they feel so well,
There maybe perhaps in such a scene
Some recollection of days that have happy been;
And you’ll remember me, and you’ll remember me.
When coldness of deceit shall slight the beauty now they prize
And deem it but a faded light which beams within your eyes,
Then you will remember me.
When hollow hearts shall wear a mask
T’will break your own to see in such a moment —
I but ask, that you’ll remember me.
C. T. Mealing
14 August 1900
(AWM PR 00752)
Oh, Give Me Back the Days…
Oh, give me back the days of long ago,
When life was one long glad and everlasting dream
When things that were less than things that seem
No thought of sorrow then no thought of woe;
Oh give me back, give me back the days of long ago!
Oh give me back the days of long ago
When first fresh breezes breathed from far away,
When morning’s splendour lingered through the day,
No thought of sorrow then no thought of woe;
Oh give me back, give me back the days of long ago!
Oh give me back the days of long ago,
When life with flashing power was all agleam
And love took up and changed it to a dream
No whisper then of heartbreak nor of pain;
Oh give me back the good old days of long ago!
C. T. Mealing
14 August 1900
(AWM PR 00752)
Ah, He Kissed Me When He Left Me
Ah, he kissed me when he left me
And he told me to be brave,
“For I go,” he whispered, “Darling
All that’s dear to me on earth to save.”
So I stifled down my sobbing
And I listened with a smile
For I knew his country called him
Though my heart should break the while
Chorus: Ah he kissed me when he left me,
His parting words remain
Deep within my bosom, “Dearest
We shall meet again.”
Oh, the sun shines just as brightly
And the world looks just as gay
As on that fatal morning
Which bore my love away
Now, alas, the dust is resting
On that bold and manly brow,
And the heart that beat so proudly
Lieth still and quiet now.
Yes, he fell, his clear voice ringing
Loud to cheer his comrades on,
But now much of you and gladness
Is with him forever gone.
Where now the pine tree rustles
And the southern branches wave,
There my own true love is lying
Low within a soldier’s grave.
C. T. Mealing
18 August 1900
(AWM PR 00752)
Untitled
Oh, are she dead and be her gone
And is I left here all alone?
Oh cruel fate you is unkind
To take the fort and leave I behind;
Her never will come home to we
But we will surely go to she!
C. T. Mealing
10 August 1900
(AWM PR 00752)
A Love Poem
’Tis you I love and shall forever
You may change but I shall never
Let separation be our lot,
Dearest Ethel forget me not.
Take this little bunch of flowers
And the ribbon that is around them,
Take them to cheer your lonely heart
And take the boy that bound them.
When rocks and hills divide us
And you no more I see,
Remember dearest Ethyl
’Twas Christy that sent this to thee.
C. T. Mealin
19 December 1900
(AWM PR 00752)
A Love Poem
My dearest Dear my heart’s delight,
Don’t fret because I am out of sight,
But bear me in your mind for what I write I am sincere
I am still in love [with] you my dear
And as the sand lies on the shore
It’s you I love and no one more.
Written by a loving hand and sealed with a kiss
Think of me, Darling, when you are reading this;
Think of me [as] the miles between us lay,
Think of me when far away;
Think of me and love me true
When I am far away from you.
When distance rolls between us shall I forgotten be
Or will you, when far away, fondly remember me?
C. T. Mealing
19 December1900
(AWM PR 00752)
In the Starlight
In the starlight, in the starlight, I am dreaming of the past,
While the soft breezes fan me gently and the time is speeding fast;
I am dreaming of my darling and all thou art to me,
I am longing, I am dreaming, in the starlight by the sea.
In the starlight, in the starlight, once you promised to be true
And my heart is broken for all its faith was placed in you;
Oh, thou false forgetting cruel maiden! Dost thou think of me,
And all the vows we uttered in the starlight by the sea?
C. T. Mealing
27 September1900
(AWM PR 00752)