Reunion

"I'm comin' down to the march this year,"
   Said the Digger.  "Strike me fat!
Eighteen long year I've toiled up here
   (An' I ain't made much at that)
But I'm comin' down to the big parade --
   An', Lord, it's none too soon --
To meet the boys of the old Brigade
   An' me pals of the old platoon.

"There's Red, who yanked me in, all out,
   When we lobbed on Sari Bair;
An' Skeet, who soothed the sergeant's doubt
   When the Gyppos stripped me bare;
And the crowd who shared them shell-hole games
   In the big dust-up at 'Eeps.'
Good gosh!  A man forgets their names;
   But their old mugs stays for keeps.

"So I'm comin' down to the march," said he,
   An' I'm goin' to see them all.
I'll come -- tho' the blue skies arch," said he,
   "Up here, an' the bush birds call.
I'm achin' -- achin', lad, for a sight
   Of those glad old mugs I knoo
When we learned to treat good cobbers right
   An' done what right men do.

"So I'm comin' down; for they've paid me fare 
   (An' it's litle more they've paid),
An' I'll meet some great old cobbers there --
   An' the narks -- of the old Brigade.
An' they'll all be grey an' bent, I s'pose,
   As I am grey an' bent;
But, so long's I get nex' door to those
   For yarns, I'll be content."