After the March

Cove sez to me on Anzac Day: 
	"Hey!"
'Scuse me bargin' in,
But did I hear you mention Harry Flynn -
Flynn of the Umpty-third?
Seems like I over heard
One of you chaps
Sayin' you knew him, p'raps."
An old, white-headed bloke
It was who spoke.

"Knew Flynn?" I sez.  "Red Flynn?
	Look, Dig, don't you let me begin
To tell
How well
I knew this Flynn, because
Cobber of mine he was.
Gone West, I chanced to hear,
This many a year.
An' if you start me in
Singin' the praise of Harry Flynn
I won't know when to stop.
Best let it drop."
The old bloke gave a grin.
"What was he like," he sez, "this Flynn?"

Then I let off me mouth,
	"Tough feller from New South."
I tells him, "Big man, too -
'Bout twice as big as you.
A reckless devil-may-care
With a flamin' head of hair;
But white, clean white, all thro'.
I mind him well, I do.
An' so, by all the laws
I should, because
Red saved my life, he did,
When I was just a kid,
A red-raw pup
Not long joined up.
If I could only see him stand
Right here, an' take his hand.
Why -- Here!
What's the idear?
What are you grinnin' at?
No need for that.

"Look, Dig, if you don't mind
I take it most unkind
That you should grin
When I begin -
Why, strike me bloomin' dead!
It's - - it's old Red!! . . . "

"Den" Herald , 26 April 1937, p6