 Chapter 1 of Digger Smith, this is a LibriBox recording, or LibriBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriBox.org. Recording by Son of the Exiles. Digger Smith by CJ Dennis. Chapter 1. Before the War Before the war she sighs, before the war, then blinks her eyes and tries to work a smile. Old sins, she says, don't look the same no more. Old ways, she says, seems to have changed their style. The pleasures that we had don't seem worthwhile. Them simple joys that passed an hour away. And troubles that we used to so revile. How small they look, she says, how small today. This war sighs old ma-flud, and when I seen the old girl sitting in our parlour telling her troubles to my wife Doreen, as though the talker needs a load of care. I think some mothers here and everywhere smile in a bit while they are grieve and sore, for growing up babies fighting over there, and then I use them so before the war. My wife has took the social abadard. I ain't a verse, one more new word I've learned. A verse to T when T is to be ad. And when it comes I reckon that it's earned. It's just a drink as far as I'm concerned. Good for a bloke that's tall and on the land. But when a caller comes, here I am turned into a social butterfly off-hand. And drink and T becomes an only right. So as I won't bring the family to disgrace, I get a bit of coaching overnight on riding winners in this bun-fed race. I have to change my shirt and wash my face, and look real newt from my waist up at least, and sling remarks in at the proper place, and not make noises drinkin' like a beast. Have some more cake, another slice, now do. And won't you have a second cup of tea? How is the children? Oh, it makes me blue. This bud wire abbit ain't no good to me. I likes to take me tucker plain and free, tea and a chunk out on the job for choice, so I can stoke with no one there to see. Besides, I haven't got no company voice. Of course I've added all out with the wife. I argues that there's work that must be done, and tells her that I ate this Tony life. She says there's duties that we must not shun. You bet that ends it, so I joins the fun, and puts them all at ease with silly grins, slings bits of repartee, like have a bun, and passes bread and butter for me sins. Since I've been married, say I've chucked some things, and learned a whole lot more to fill the space. I've slung all slang, crook words of taken wings, and I have learned to entertain with grace. But when old Mrs. Flood comes round our place, I don't object to her for all her size, because I likes her ways, I likes her face, and most of all she has them mother's eyes. Before the war she sighs the poor old girl. Her talk it gets me thinking, in between. While I'm assisting out this social world, she comes across for comfort to Doreen, to talk about the things that might have been, if Sid had not been killed at Surve la Bay, or Jim not done a bunk at Seventeen, and not been heard of since he went away. They have a little farm right next to us, her and her husband, where they live alone, spite of her cares she ain't the sort to fuss, or serve up sudden tears and sob and moan. And since I've known her somehow I have grown, to see in her and all the grief she's bore, a million brave old mothers who have known deep sorrow since them days before the war. Before the war she says you mind our Sid, poor lad, but then you never met young Jim, him who was charged with things he never did. Ah, both of you had been real chums with him. I spirited he was, a perfect limb. It's six long years now since he went away. I drove away, the poor old eyes get dim. That was she sighs, that was me blackest day. Me blackest day? What am I saying now? There was the day the person come to tell. The news about our Sid, and yet somehow, my little Jim, she pauses for a spell. Your oliox is doing really well, she says, and battles are to brighten up. And them their pinks are yours, how sweet they smell. Ah, thanks, I think I will have one more cup. As far as I can get the strength of it, them floods have had a real tough road to hoe. First off young Jim, who blazes an eye a bit, narks the old man a treat, and slings the show. Then come the war, and Sid, he has to go. He run his final up at Suvla Bay. One of the Aussies I was proud to know, and Jim's cracked arty, since he went away. The Jim, these mothers, Lord, they're all the same. I wonder if Doreen will be that kind. Sid was the son who played the Real Man's game, but Jim, who sloped and left no word behind, he's as the pitcher shining in her mind. I spirited, I've heard that tale before. I sometimes think she'd take it rather kind, to hear that his eye spirits run to war. Before the war, she says, our times was good. The little farm out there, and just us four, working to make a decent livelihood. Our Sid and Jim, poor Jim, it grieves me sore. The dad won't have him mentioned home no more. He's hurt, I know, because he thinks Jim hurt me, as if he could the Bonnie boy I bore. But I must off home now, and get dad's tea. I seen her to the gate, take it from me. I'm some polite. She says, you mustn't mind. Me talking so of Jim, but when I see, your face, it brings him back. He's just your kind. Not quite so handsome, perhaps, nor so refined. I've got some toys of his, she says, but there. This is old woman's talk and you behind, with all your work and a little time to spare. She gives me Anne to squeeze and turns away. Sobbing, I thought, but when she looks behind, smiling and waving like she felt real gay, I wonders how the women works that blind. And just waves back, then goes inside to find a looking-glass, and takes a real good look. Not quite so handsome, perhaps, nor so refined. God help you, Jim. I think you must be crook. End of Chapter 1 Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 2 of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 2 Dummy Bridge If I had applied me, Jack, on that there ten, says Peter Begg, I might have made the lot. How could you, barks old pool? How could you when? I had me queen behind, says Begg. What rot? I slung away me king to take that trick. Which one? Say, ain't your head the trifle thick? Now don't you see that when I plays me king, I'll give you queen a chance, and lost the slam. But pool, he says, he don't see no such thing. So Begg gets hot, and starts to loose a dam. He twigs the misses just in time to check, and makes it dash, and gets red down his neck. There's me and Peter Begg, an old man pool. Neighbours of mine that farm a bit close by. Just once a week or so, we makes a school, and gives this game a dummy bridge of lie. Doreen, she has her sewn by the fire. The kid's in bed, and is me aunt's desire. Home comfort, peace, the picture of me wife. Appy at work, me neighbours gathered round. All friendly like, what more is there in life? I've searched a bit, but better, I ain't found. Doreen, she seems content, but in her eye. I've seen real pity when the talk gets eye. This evening we had started off real lot. Two little slams and pool without a score. Still looking sore about the cards he got, when sudden like a knock comes to the door. A visitor growls big to cruel our game, and looks at me as though I was to blame. Just as Doreen goes out, I seen a grin. Deal him up quick, I whispers. Grab your hand, and look real occupied. When they comes in, perhaps they'll have the sense to understand. If it's a man, maybe he'll make a foe. But if, then Mrs. Flood comes in the door. Twas old ma Flood, her face wrapped in a smile. Now, boy, she says, don't let me spoil your game. I'll just chat with Doreen a little while. But if you stop, I'll be ashamed I came. And then she waves a letter in her hand. Says she, our gym's a soldier, ain't it grand? Good boy, says Pool. Let's see. I'll make it arts. Double jouts, Begg. And he'd been in a fight. Says Mrs. Flood, out in them foreign parts. French, I suppose. I can't pronounce it right. He's been once wounded somewhere in the leg. Yeah, Bill, you go on to sleep. Asks Peter, Begg. I place me queen of spades, and plays her bad. Begg snorts, my boy-size Mrs. Flood, my gym. King here, laughs Pool. That's the last spade I had. Doreen, she smiles. I'm glad you've heard from him. We're done, groans Begg. Why did you nurse your ace? My gym. And there was sunlight in her face. I always thought a lot of gym might did. Says Begg, he does your credit. Here, your deal. That's so, says Pool. He was an all right kid. No, Trumps. I'm sorry, that's the way you feel. It will take you all your time to make the book. And then Doreen sends me a wireless look. I gets the SOS, but Begg is keen. My dearly yaps, what rotten cards I get. Oh, Mrs. Flood sits closer to Doreen. The best she whispers. I ain't told you yet. Strains me ears, and leads me king of Trumps. Ace here, grins Begg. Pool throws his coin, and thumps. That saves me Jack, Al's Begg tough luck-old sport. Says Mrs. Flood, gyms won a medal, too. For doing something brave at bully court. Play on, play on, growls Begg. It's up to you. And I renegs and Trumps me partner's ace. And Pool gets sudden murder in his face. I'm sick of this ear, gamey grunts. It's tame. Righto, I chips. Suppose we toss it in. Begg don't say nothing, so we sling the game. On my wife's face I twigs a tiny grin. Wished, she says, surprised. Well, perhaps it's right. It looks to me like Arts was Trump's tonight. And so they was, and say the game was grand. Two hours we sat, while that old mother told about her gym, his letter in her hand, and on her face a glowing look that rolled. The miles all up that lie twixed France in air, and found her son, and brought him very near. The gamer bridge it was with Arts for Trumps. We was the dummies sitting silent there. I knew the men like me was feeling chumps, fullen with cards while this was in the air. It took Doreen to shove us in our place, and mother held the lot right from the ace. She told us how he said he'd writ before, and how the letters must have gone astray. And how the stern old father still was sore, but looked like he'd be softening day by day. Our pride in Jim poops out behind his frown, and how the old bull lobes to hide it down. I knew, she says, I never doubted Jim, but what could any mother say or do, when pry and folks ask what become of him? But drop her eyes and say she never knew. Now I can lift me head to that slide glance, and say Jim's fighting with the rest in France. And when she goes us for we don't require, no gossiping to keep us in employ, old pool sits there and hard into the fire. I guess that he was thinking of his boy, who's been right in it from the very start, and pool was thinking of a father's part. And then he speaks this war as turned as hard. Suppose four years ago you said to me, that I'd sit idly staring at a card, while that old mother told, Good Lord, says he, it takes the women fall to put us wise, to play in games in wartime, and his size. An ear-door reen sets out to put him right, as games and games, she says, when women starts, a handed bridge like she has played tonight, it's nature teaching him to make it arts. The other suits are yours, she says, but then, that's as it should be, seeing you a man. Maybe, says pool, and both gets up to go. I'll stand beside the door when they are gone, watching their lanterns swingin' to and fro, and ears begs voice as they go trudgin' on. If you had led that queen we might have made, rubbish, shouts pool, you mucked it with your spade. End of chapter two. Recording by son of the exiles. Chapter three of Digger Smith by CJ Dennis. This Libra box recording is in the public domain. Recording by son of the exiles. Chapter three. Dad, I've known Old Flood this last five year or more. I knew him when he said, went to the war. A proud old man he was, but I've watched him, and seen his look when people spoke at Jim. The sourer look as most coves want to see, it made me glad that this ear Jim weren't me. I sized up Flood the first day that we met. Stubborn as blazers when his mind is set. Old fashion in his looks and in his ways. Believin' it is honesty that pays. Earned still dead set in spite of bumps he's got, to keep on honest if it pays or not. Poor old Dad Flood. He is too old to fight. By close on thirty year, but if I'm right, about his doings and about his grit, he's done a fair bit over, he's fair bit. They are too old to fight, but all the same, he's kinds quite young enough to play the game. I've heard it called this war, and it's the truth. I've heard it called the sacrifice, a youth. And all this land is recognised too, and gives the boys the praises. That is due. I've heard the cheers for every fight and lad, but up to now I ain't heard none for Dad. Old Flood and all these kind throughout the land. They ain't been eryldered with no brass band. Or been much thought about, but take my tip. The warriors found him with a stiffened lip. Ump in the load they thought they'd dropped for good. Crackin' real arty, and just soarin' wood. Dad Flood he's back his bent, his strength is gone. He's done his bit before this war came on. At sixty-five he thought his work was done. He gave the farmer an over to his son. And just sat back in peace with his old wife, to spin content the evening of his life. Then come the war, and when Sid hesitates, between the old folk and his fightin' mates, the old man goes outside and grabs a hoe. Says he, you want to, and you ought to go. What's stoppin' ya? he straightens his old frame. Ain't I farmed long enough to know the game? There weren't no more to say, and Sid went west, into the sunset with old Ozzy's best. But no one ever erred no groans from Dad. Though all his pride and hope was in that lad, he showed no sign except to grow more grim. His son was gone, and it was up to him. One day last month when I was down at Flood's, I seen him struggling with a bag of spuds. Look here, I says, you let me spell your dad? You armpin' loads like that's a bit too bad. He gives a grump that's more than half a groan. What's up, he snaps. Got no work of your own? That's him, but I've been tippin' that the pace would tell, and when his wife comes to our place, and says the dad is ill and took to bed, flat out with work, though that ain't what she said. I ain't surprised and tells her when I'm through. I'll come across and see what I can do. I went across, and I'll come back again. Strike me, it's no use risenin' with some men. Stubbin' old cows, I'm sick of them old fools. The way yells, keep your hands off me tools. Yet think I was a thief, his missus said. I'd bet a slope or he'd be out of bed. He heard us talkin' through the open door. There's that, he croaks, although he tries to roar. And when his wife explains it's only me, to help a bit, I want no charity. He barks, I'll do me work myself, yeah. And then he gets so snarky that I clear. But he'll do me, I like the old boy's nerve. We don't do nothin' that he don't deserve. But me and Peter beg an old man pool. We fairly as our work cut out to fool the sly old fox when we sneaks down each day, and works a while to keep things underway. We digs a bit, and plows a bit, and chops the wood, and does the needful to his crops. We does it soft, and when he hears a row, his missus tells him it's the dog or cow. He says that it's queer noises for a pup, and there'll be ructions when old flood gets up. It ain't all over work that's laid him out. Old pride in him is fightin' hard, with doubt. Today's wife says something strange in him. For any sleep sometimes, he calls for Jim. It's six long years, she says, and stops to shake. He read that he don't mention him awake. Bad flood. I thought him just a stiff-necked fool. Before the war, but as I says to pool, this war is tested more than fightin' men. But say he isn't only terror when friends try to help him earn a bite and sup, or they'll be held to pay when he gets up. End of Chapter 3 Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 4 of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis This Libra box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 4 Digger Smith He calls me Digger. That's how he begins. He says he's only half a man, and grins. Judged by his nerve, I'd say he was worth two, of me and you. Then he digs half a fag out of his vest, borrows me matches, and gives him best. The first I'd heard about it, pool, told me. There is a bloke called Smith at Floodz, says he. Come there this mornin', says he's come to stay, and won't go away. Says he was sent there by a pal named Flood, and talks a contract sealed with Flanders mud. No matter what they say, he only grins, says pool, he's rather wobbly on his pins. Seems like a soldier bloke and Peter beg. He says one leg, works by machinery, but I don't know. I only know he's there, and he won't go. He grins, says pool, at everything they say. Dad Flood is nearly out of fit today. He's cursed and ordered him clean off the place. But this cove's face just goes on grinning, and he says quite calm. He's come to do a bit around the farm. The tail don't sound too good to me at all. If he's a crook, I says, he wants a fall. Maybe he's dilly, I'll go down and see. He'll grin at me when I have done, if he needs dealin' with. So I goes down to interview this Smith. He had a fork out in the tater patch. Says he, why hello digger, got a match? Digger, I says, why you ain't digger here. Yet better clear, you oughta know that you can't dig them spuds. I don't belong to you, they're old man floods. Can't I, he grins, I'll do the best I can. Considering I'm only half a man. Give us a light, I can't get none from flood. Then mine is dud. I parts, and he stands grinnin' at me still. And then he says, have you forgot me, Bill? I looks, and seen a tough bloke, short and thin. Then Lord, I recommend that I'll grin. It's little Smith Iowls, a calling wood. Glad this is good. Last time I seen you, you and Ginger Mick, was Al and Rags, out on your final kick. You're onto it, he says, next day we sailed. Now half of me's back home, and half they nailed. And Mick, oh well, Fritz took me down a peg. He waves his leg. It ain't too bad, he says, with his old smile. When I start to dig, it cramps me style. But I ain't grouchin', it was worth the fun. We had some picnic stashing, brother-un. The only fight I've had, that some John Op, don't come and stop. They pulled me leg a treat, but all the same. There's nothing over here, to beat the game. And now he says, I'm here to do a job. I promised, if it was me luck, to lob. Back home before me mate, he says, and then he grins again. As clear as mud, I says, but I can't work. Me brains to hold your pace. So what's the lurk? So then he puts me wise, it seems, that him. And this air flood, I tips, it must be Jim. Was Cobbers up in France, and things occurred? I got his word. Things did occur up there, but anyway. Seems Flood done something good for him, one day. Then Smithy promised, if he came back home. Before his Cobber, or the Flamin' Farm. He'd see the old folks here, and he agreed. If there was need, he'd stay and do a bit around the farm. So long as he had one sound dinkum arm. So here I am, he says, and grins again. A promise is a promise, amongst us men. Says I, you come along up to the house. Oh, dad won't rouse. When once he's got your strength, and has for mar. She'll kiss you when she finds out who you are. So we goes up, and finds them both fair dazed. About this little Smith, they think he's crazed. I tells the tale in words they understand. Then it was grand. To see dad grab Smith's hand, and pump it good. And mar, she kissed him, like I said she would. Mar says he must be starved, and right away. The kettle's on. She's busy, with a tray. And when I left this digger Smith, he looked. Like he was booked. For keeps with tea, and bread, and beef inside. Our little willies own, he grins, and dried. End of chapter four. Recording by son of the exiles. Chapter five of digger Smith by CJ Dennis. This LibraVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by son of the exiles. Chapter five. West. I've seen so much of dirt and grime. I'm mad to have things clean. I've seen so much of death, he said. So many cobbers lie and dead. You won't know what I mean. But lad, I've had so much of strife. I want things straightened in me life. I've seen so much of hate, he said. Mad eight and silly rage. I'm yearning for clear thought city. Kindness and love seem good to me. I want a new white page. To start all over, clean and good. And live me life as real men should. We're sitting talking by the fence. The sun's just going down. Painting the sky all gold and pink. City, when it's like that, I think. And then he stops to frown. City, I think, when it's just so of God or something. I don't know. I ain't seen much of God, city. Not here, nor over there. But partly what I've seen and read. And partly what the Padre said. It gets me when I stare. Out west, when it's like that is now. There must be something else. Somehow. I've thought a lot, said Digger Smith. Out there, I've thought a lot. I've thought of death and all the rest. And of me mates, good mates gone west. And it ain't much of God. But things get moving in me Ed. When I look over there, he said. He's got me beat as little Smith. I knew him years ago. I knew him as a real tough boy. Who roughed it up with holy joy. But now, well I don't know. And when I ask my flood she sighs. And says he's got the Anzac eyes. She says he's got them soldier's eyes. That make her own eyes wet. And we must give him wholesome food. And lead his thoughts to something good. And never let him fret. But he ain't fretting, seems to me. More puzzled far as I can see. The clouds above the hill was tore apart until some hour. It seemed like some big shining gate. Said he, why lad? I'll tell you straight. I feel like starting now. And walking on and on and through. Dead game and ain't it so to you? I've seen enough of pain he said. And curse and killin' ords. I ain't the man to smudge with God. To get to heaven on the nod. Or our limbs bore rewards. But this, beloved, why? Oh, struth. This never hit me in me youth. They talk a love-twixed man, said he. That sounds dead crook to you. But lately I have come to see. Old on I said, it seems to me. There's love of women, too. And you? He turns away, he said. I'm only half a man, he said. I've seen so much of death, said he. Me mind is in a whirl. I've had so many thoughts of late, said I. Now tell me. Tell me straight. Own up. Ain't there a girl? Said he. I've done the best I can. What does she want with half a man? It weren't no use. He wouldn't talk, and nothing but that sky. Said he. Now dink him, talk and square. When you get gazing over there, don't you half want to cry? I wouldn't be surprised to see an angel coming out, said he. Gone west, said Digger Smith. I lad, I've seen him going west. And often wonder when I look if they have at it dealt him crook. Or if they've got the rest. They earn twice over by the spell they spent down in that dinker mill. The gold was creeping up. The sun was half behind the range. It don't seem strange a man should cry to see that glory in the sky. To me it don't seem strange. Digger said he. Look at it now. It must be something else, somehow. End of chapter five. Recording by son of the exiles. Chapter six of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by son of the exiles. Chapter six. Over the fence. Don't my idea of argument to call a man a fool? And I ain't looking round for bricks to either old man pull. But when he gets to sputin' he's inclined to lose his head. You don't so much his choice of words as how the words is said. He's such a coot for takin' sides as I says to Doreen. Says she, how can he buy himself? Whatever that may mean. My wife says little things sometimes that nearly get me riled. I knew she meant more than she said by that soft way she smiled. Today when I was arrowing, pull come down to the fence. To get the loan of my long spade and uses that pretence. To have a bit of friendly talk and one word leads to more. And is the way with old man pull as I've remarked before. The spade reminds him how he done some diggin' in his day. And diggin' brings the talk to earth and earth leads on to clay. Then clay quite natural reminds a thinkin' bloke of bricks. Then mortar brings up mud and then, of course, it's politics. Now, pull sticks by his party and I don't deny he's right. But when he starts abusing mine he's lookin' for a fight. So I delivers good-aimed truths about his crowd then pull. Wags his old beard across the fence and tells me I'm a fool. Now that's the dizzy limit, so I lays aside the reins and starts to prove he's storin' mud where most blokes keeps their brains. He decorates his answers and we're goin' it ding dong. When this returned bloke, Digger Smith, comes soldering along. Pulls grip the fence as though he means to tear the rails in two. And eyes me wagon finger like he wants to have a chew. Then Digger Smith he grins at Pull and then he looks at me and says quite soft and friendly like, Winnin' the war, says he. Now Pull deserves it and I'm pleased the lad give him that jolt. He goes fair man in argument when once he gets a halt. You make me sad, says Digger Smith, the both of you, says he. The both of us, God's truth says I, you ain't including me. Well it takes two to make a row, says little Digger Smith. A bloke can't argue lest he has a bloke to argue with. I've come home from a dinkum scrap to find this land of light. He's chasin' its own tail around and callin' it a fight. We've seen a thing or two us blokes who fought on many fronts. And we've had time to think a bit between the fight and stunts. We've seen big things and thought big things and all the silly fuss that used to get us rattled once seems very small to us. And when a bloke's fought for a land and gets laid on the shelf it pains him to come home and find its scrappin' with itself. And scrappin' all for nothin' and for things that look so small to us who've been in bigger things I don't seem real at all. Perhaps we've had some scot knocked out and perhaps we see more clear but seems to us there's plenty cleanin' up to do round here. We've learned a little thing or two and we have unlearned eeps. And silly partisans with us is counted out for keeps. There's taken sides just for the sake of taken sides of truth. I used to do them things one time back in me foolish youth. Out there when I remembered things I've kicked me self real good in football days I barracked once red for Collingwood. I didn't want to see a game nor see no justice done that never mattered what occurred as long as my side won. The other side was narks and cows and rotters to a man but mine was all real bonds of chaps. I was a partisan. It might sound like swell dead says Smith but show me if you can. Old Ard says, Poole just tell me this what is a partisan? Then Digger Smith starts to explain. Poole interrupts straight out and I wades in to give me views and Astonilly shout. We battles on for one good hour. My team sleeps where it stands and Poole has tossed the spade away to talk with both his hands and Smith has dropped the moorly ad. Then all looks round to see. Door ring quite close. She smiles at us. Win in the war says she. End of Chapter 6 Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 7 of Digger Smith This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Son of the Exiles Digger Smith by CJ Dennis Chapter 7 A Digger's Tale My oath the Duchess says you'd not expect. Such things as that you don't mean kangaroos. Go on she says or words to that effect. It's hard to imitate the speech they use or tells her straight or drives them for an end. I'm in my land. You hear a lot says little Digger Smith about our English swells is so stand off. Don't you believe it? It's a silly myth. I've been real cobbers with the British Toff. When I'm on leave for blightly like our crowd then Dennis proud. Our sozzies was the goods in London Town when I was there if they just twigged you out. The jerks would ask you could you keep one down and urls would hang out welcome on the mat and sling your invites to their stately halls for fancy balls. This Duchess I ain't quite sure of her rank. She might have been a peeress I don't know. She meets her husband first. He owns a bank. I heard an half a dozen mince or so. A dinkum toff he says come home with me and have some tea. That's how I meet this Duchess. What's her name? Or Countess? Never mind her moniker. I ain't no end at this year title game. And right away I was real pals with her. I'll tell me all about your home says she and smiles at me. That knocks me out. I know it ain't no good. Painting word pitches of the things I've done. Out owe me barricing for Collingwood or putting on the flat at Flemington. I know this barrenness of what you call want something tall. I've got things real hard and then I'll let it go. I'll tell her out at Richmond on Me Run a little place of ten square mile or so on Breeden Boomerangs which is real fun. When I ain't troubled by the wild John Ops that eats me crops. I'll talk about the wondrous Boschter bird that builds her nest up in the cobbler tree at her young on May the 3rd, strict to the minute just at half past three. Her eyes get big, she says. Can it be true? Her eyes was blue. And then I speak a sport and tells her out. You're nothing our wild wowsers we employ. Large packs of barricades and out there row. Wakes echoes in the forests of Fitzroy where lurks the deadly shicker snake whose breath is certain death. I'm going on to talk a kangaroos and how I used to drive them four in ant. What says the Marquianess them things in zizz that hops about. I've seen them in the Strand in double harness but I ain't seen four. Tell me some more. I balks a bit at that and she says well there ain't no calls at all for you to fill. Modest about the things you have to tell. And what you say sounds wonderfully real. Your talk and here I seen her eyelids flick makes me aim sick. I recollect she says now let me see. In Gippsland long ago when I was young I had a little pet caroberie all sits up in me chair like I was stung. On its own legs she says it used to stand fed from the end. Of course I threw me alley in right there. This princess was a dinkum Aussie girl. I can't do nothing else but sit and stare thinking so rapid that me air roots curl. But her she says I ain't her talk so good since my childhood. I wish says she I could be back again beneath the waddle and that great blue sky. It's like a breath of aim to meet you men. You're done real good she says. Don't you be shy. When you're in blighty once again says she come and see me. I don't see her no more cause I stopped one but for I sales I gets a billy do which says give my love to the dear old son and take an exiles blessing home with you. And if you have some boomerangs to spare save me a pair. I'd like to see him play about she wrote out on me lawn and stroke there pretty fur God bless your boy and then she ends her note your dinkum copper and her moniker a sport you bet she's married to an oil an Aussie girl. End of chapter seven recording by son of the exiles. Chapter eight of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis this Libra Vox recording is in the public domain recording by son of the exiles. Chapter eight. Jim's girl. Who is that girl says Digger Smith that never seems to bother with no blokes the bent with curly air I've often seen her over there talking to Mrs. Flood and she seems like a real right peach to me. Not that I'm asking, hear his eyes go sort of swivelly and he sighs not that I'm asking with ideas of love and marriage have no fears I've chucked the matrimony plan he says I'm only half a man. This Digger Smith has fairly got me rampant with his half man rot he has a timber leg it's true but he can do the work of two besides the things he's done out there makes him one man and some to spare. I knew his question was just kid he'd met this girl I know he did he knew Jim Flood and her was booked for double when the un was cooked but seeing her it used to start him thinking of another tart. Oh her says I she is a pearl I've heard she used to be Jim's girl but she was just a child when Jim got out she has forgotten him. I knows just what was in his mind and says wait in if you're inclined he give me such a nasty look I thought he meant to answer crook but I ain't out for jokes says he you needn't sling that stuff to me I only was just thinkin' perhaps there's some he says that sticks to chaps some girl says he keeps true to chaps and when they're done with scraps and come home all you don't expect no tart to tie up with a wreck besides he says well anyhow that girl's alright I know it now I know says Smith I got it right Jim used to talk to me at night about a little girl he tracked her name is Flow ain't that a fact that's her I know she writes to him each mail she ain't forgotten Jim I'd like to swap me luck for Jim's if he comes home with all these limbs and if he don't well I don't know I've taken notice of this flow and wonder if he stares at me if there is more like her says he now digga Smith has learned a lot out fightin' there but he ain't got the cunning four to eyed his art he's too damn honest or a start he's minds dead simple to a friend I've read him through from end to end I've learned from things he hasn't said just what's been runnin' in his head I know there is a girl somewhere someone who had the art to care for him when he went to the war I know all that and something more I know that since he came back here he hasn't seen that girl for fear she'd turn him down give him the bird and hand him out the frozen word because he's left the leg in France and he's afraid to take a chance well not afraid perhaps but shook it's just the form his nerves have took now he's been watchin' flow and seen her style and how she's always keen for news at gym then he starts out to hope and hesitate and doubt he wonders if his own girl spoke just this same way about her bloke he wonders if in his girl's eyes the same look came and then he sighs and dulls his senses with the dope that half a man ain't got no hope he makes me tired but all the same I tries to work a little game look here I says about this flow gym mightn't come back home you know you have a fly you're sure to score besides all's fair in love and war sling that he says but I goes on oh gym won't blame you when she's gone he knows the same as me and you these silly tarts they can't keep true now piles it on until I've got him where I want him jump a knot and then he says here sling that torque might be groggy in me walk but if you say them things to me oh man enough to crack ya see right oh says I that was me plan now what about this half a man he stares at me and then says slow what is your game what do you know nothing I tells him only this when there's a waitin' tart to kiss man but when there's blokes to fight you're 20 men what tart he asks you mean this flow perhaps not I says you oughta know I waits to let me words sink in and then he beats me with that grin matchmaking Bill he laughs oh hell you take up knitting for a spell end of chapter 8 recording by son of the exiles chapter 9 of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis this Libra box recording is in the public domain recording by son of the exiles chapter 9 the boys out there why do they do it I don't know says Digger Smith you got me beat some of the yarns you hear is true and some is rather empty do and some is indiscreet but them that don't get to the crowd them is the ones would make you proud with Digger Smith and other blokes who have returned it's much the same they talk of what they've seen and done when they've been out to have their fun but no word of the game on fights and all the tale of blood their talk as they remark is dud it's so with soldiers I avert all times the things that they have done wore mad with blood before their eyes and in their ears wild fight and cries they ever after shun perhaps they forget or find it well not to recall too much the veil and when they won't loose up their talk it's hard for us to understand how all those boys we used to know old Billow, Jim and Tom and Joe done things to beat the band we knew they'd fight but they've became ed ringers at the fight and game well what I've heard from Digger Smith and other soldier blokes like him I've put together bit by bit and chewed a long time over it and now I've got a dim an easy notion in me ed why they as battlers born and bred what did they know of war first off when they joined up what did I know when I was tossed out on me neck as if I was a shattered wreck the time I tried to go flat feet me feet as length and breadth enough to kick an under death they don't know nothing bein' reared out here where war has never spread a land by bloodless conquest won as some son of a writing gun says in a book I read they don't know nicks but what they're told at school and that sticks till they're old you've got to take the kid at school get in his history lesson learned them tales of Nelson and of Drake of Wellington and fightin' Blake his little art is burned to get right out and have a go and socket into some base foe nothing but glory fills his mind the British charge is something grand the soldier that he reads about don't have no time for fear and doubt he's the heroic brand so when that boy gets in the game he just wades in and does the same not bein' old hands at the stunt they simply do as they are told but bein' Aussies spare me days they never thinks of other ways but does it brave and bold that's half and for the other part you've got to go back to the start you've got to go right back to dad to granddad and the pioneers who packed up all their bag of tricks and come out here in 56 and battled through the years our granddads and their women too that add the grit to face the new it's that old stock and more than that it's Bill and Jim and every son gettin' three good meat mills a day the neeps of chance to go and play out in the bonza sun it's partly that but don't forget when it's all said there's somethin' yet there's somethin' yet and they're on beat crowds of these lads I've known but then they have got somethin' from this war somethin' I never had before that makes them better men better there's no word I can get to name it right there's somethin' yet we hear a lot about reward we praise and sling the cheers about but there was debts we can't repay piled up on us one single day when that first list come out there ain't no way to pay that debt do what we can there's somethin' yet End of chapter 9 Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 10 of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis This Libra Box recording is in the public domain Recording by Son of the Exiles Chapter 10 Arthur Mann Oh wash me hands of him I tell somethin' straight You women can do what ya dash well like I leave this Arthur Mann to his own fate I've done me bit and now I'm gone on strike Do what ya please but don't ask help from me He's give me nerves so now I'll let him be Doreen and old Marfludd has got a scheme They've been conspiring for a week or more About this Digger Smith and now they dream They've got his future waitin' in cool store To hand him out and fix him up for life But they've got bucklies as I tells me wife I've seen him whisperin' up in our room Now they want me to join in the debate But next I tell them I ain't in the boom And Digger Smith ain't risin' to me bait He's far too fly a fish for me to catch And to designin' women ain't his match I puts me foot down firm and tells them no They're silly plans a thing I wouldn't touch And then me wife for half an hour or so Talks to me confident of nothin' much Then for I know it I am all red-ot Into the scheme and leader of the plot Twas Marfludd starts it, she got old of him You know the way they have with poor weak men She drops a tear or two concerning Jim Tells him what women have to bear and then She got him talkin' like a woman can He never woulda squeaked to any man She leads him on, it's crook the way they scheme To talk about this girl he's left behind Not that she's prying, why she wouldn't dream But speakin' of it might just ease his mind Then for he knows he's told to his surprise Name an address and color of her eyes And then she's off here plottin' with Doreen Bustin' a confidence I tell them flat But all me roustin' leaves them both serene Women don't see a little thing like that And I ain't cooled off yet before they've got Me workin' for em' in this crooked plot Next day Marfludd she takes her Sunday dress And her best little bonnet up to town Her games to see the girl at this address And word her in regard to comin' down To take Smith by surprise my parts to fix A meetin' so they won't be any mix I tip somehow that girl won't hesitate She don't, she comes right back with Mar next day All of a fluster when I seen her state Thinks I'd best see Digger straight away Cos if I don't he's bound to ear the row With her where is he? Can't I see him now? I finds him in the paddock down at Floods I arms and arse a bit about the crops He don't say nothin' goes on baggin' spuds How would you like? I says to him and stops How would it be? He stands and looks at me Now what the hell's got into you? Says he That don't restore me confidence a bit The drama isn't goin' as I tipped I coughs and makes another shot at it Wiley looks at me like he thinks I'm dipped Well, just suppose I says and then I turn And see her standin' there among the fern She don't want no prelimaries this tart She's broke away before they rung the bell She's beat the gun and got a flyin' start Smith makes a funny noise and I says Because I tumbles that I'm out of place But as I went I caught sight of her face That's all I wanna know and as I ran I use her cry, my man, man and a half Don't fool me with your talk of half a man I years old digger start to laugh It was a funny laugh, so help me Bob Fair in the middle of it, come a sob I don't see digger till the other night Well half a man I says, how gas it now? Yes, half a man says he, you got it right I can't change that alone, not anyhow But she is mendin' things, he starts to laugh Someday he says she'll be the better half End of chapter 10 Recording by son of the exiles Chapter 11 of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by son of the exiles Chapter 11 Soaring Wood I wondered what was doin' first I seen Oh Mrs. Floodwave signals to Doreen I'm in the paddock slashing down some ferns She's coming up the road, and if she turns And and spring I won't be surprised a bit The way she's capering and going it She yells out some remark when she gets near Which I don't catch, I'm too far off to air And then Doreen comes prancing to our door And Mrs. Flood she sprints and yells some more My wife runs to the gate and waves her arms But I lays low, I'm used to these alarms A married bloke in time he learns a bit And he ain't overkeen to throw a fit Each time the women calls the fire real out It's just a trifle he'll know all about When things get normal that's a point I learn So I soars wood and keeps on cuttin' fern At least I cut a few I gotta give Real facts and own I was inquisitive And these air fireworks gets me fair perplexed I watch the house to see what happens next But nothing's doin' they just goes on in And leaves me wonderin' what's caused the din I stands it for a full half hour or more Then gets dead sick of starein' at the door I goes down to the house and hunts about To find some bakker which I have no doubt Is in me trousers pocket all the while When I goes in the talk stops and they smile I says I've lost me smoke and search a bit And I ask Doreen what has become of it And turns the mantel shelf all upside down And looks inside the teapot with a frown Then gives it up and owns I'd like a drink When Mrs. Flood says, Bill, what do you think? Now ain't that like a woman's spare me days I'll never get resigned to all their ways When they has news to tell they smile and wink And bottle it and ask ya what ya think It's just a silly game of theirs and so I gives the countersign what I don't know Then guess she says well I'm a patient bloke so I sits down and starts to cut a smoke to play this game you've got to persevere. Couldn't I says if I guessed for a year then lights me pipe and waits for her to speak. At last she says Jim's coming back next week. Go on die and puffs away a while. Quite unconcerned but for to see her smile was just a treat her eyes were shining bright and she'd grow ten years younger in a night. Just ear Doreen she says to me good lord what do you want two plugs a backer for I takes me pipe out of me mouth and stairs and stammer's muster found a piece somewhere but by the way she smiles so extra sweet I know she twigs me game and I am beat fancy she says you're absent minded dear sure there was nothing else you wanted here nothing I says and feels a first prize full and goes outside and grabs the nearest tool it was the crosscut so I works like mad to keep me self-respect from going bad this game I tells me self will do you good you ain't proficient yet it's sore and wood. End of Chapter 11 Recording by son of the Exiles Chapter 12 of Digger Smith by C.J. Dennis this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by son of the Exiles Chapter 12 Jim now be the oaky fly says Peter Begg suppose he comes home with a wooden leg suppose he isn't fit to dance at all then ain't we hasty fixing up this ball and a bridge is my idea says Peter be the oaky fly Oh Peter Begg is getting on in years he owns a real good farm and all he fears is that some girl will land him by and by and share it with him be the oaky fly that's his pet swear word and I don't know what but he uses it a lot dance and growls beg we're fixing up the all with bits of green stuff for a little ball to welcome Jim who's coming home next day wearing and flags around to make things gay and shifting chairs and candle-grizzin' floors as is our way when blokes comes home from wars and Emma Bridge says Peter Begg would be more decent like and perhaps a keg something if the yearos feel and dry but this here dance and be the oaky fly these selfish women never thinks at all about the guest they only wants the ball now cards says Begg amuses everyone I told you guests could have his fun if he'd lost both his legs it makes me sick here don't you spread that candle-grizz too thick you're wasting it and us men ask to buy enough for nonsense be the oaky fly Begg he ain't never keen on wasting much Peter I says it's you that needs a crutch and settle down he looks real fierce and answers with a frown do you think I am going to be rocked draft me Tucker just to get it cooked oh let's it go at that and does me job and when a little later on my lob along the home would track down by floods gate I meet old digger Smith and stops to state me views about the weather and the war he tells me Jim gets here next day at four and as we talk I seize along the road a strange blow-cump and some queer sort of load I points him out to Smith and says is that looks like a soldier don't he be that stranger says digger be the cut of him cluster mother's eyes it's Jim my Jim my Jim my ears and scootin' up the track comes Mrs. Flood with Flo close at her back it was a race for lover and for son they finished neck and neck but mother won for it was her that got the first good hug took so back I stands there like a mug then come Flo's turn and Jim and digger they shakes ends without no fancy grandstand play yet think they parted yesterday them too for all the wild heroics that they do you done it lad says Jim I knew you would you bet sir Smith but I'm all to the good then all of a sudden all their tongues is loosed me there and I am introduced and Jim tells how it was he come to land so soon while myron flow each holds an end but just a sudden they all stop and stare down to the house that dad flood stand in there he's got his hand up shading off the sun then he starts up to them but dad don't run he is an Alan poor he's lost boys kiss he's got his own sweet way in things like this he wanders up and stands and looks at Jim and spare me days that look was extra grim I seen the mother plucking at her dress I seen the girl's white face and her distress and digger Smith he looks real queer to me grinning inside himself he seemed to be at last dad says oh he's a tough old gun well are you sorry now for what you done Jim gives a start but answers with a grin well dad I have been learning discipline and though I ain't quite sure what did occur way back he's grinning worse I'm sorry sir it beats me that about those soldier blokes they're always grinning like all things was jokes perhaps dad is getting dull in his old age but he don't seem to see Jim's camouflage perhaps he don't want to for in his old eye I seen a twinkle as he gives reply next week he says we will begin to start the taters you can make another start but then he grabs Jim's and I seen the joy in mother's eyes now welcome me boy says dad and then he adds you made me proud that's all and he don't add it none too loud dad don't express his feelings in a shout it cost him something to get that much out we had the dance and spite of all begs fears Jim dance like he could keep it up for years mostly with flow we don't let up till three and then old Peter beg door in and me we walk together home and on the way door in has quite a lot of things to say did you see flow says she don't she look grand that Jim's the luckiest in all the land and little Smith that girl of ease I'm sure she'll bring him happiness that will endure she hugs me arm then says us been door wife if it's the right one is the wealth of life I sneaks a look at beggin answers yes you're right old girl that's the real happiness and if all lonely growlers was to know the worth of happy marriage year below they'd swap their bank books for a wife says I says Peter beg well be the okie fly end of chapter 12 recording by son of the exiles chapter 13 of diggers Smith by CJ Dennis this Libra box recording is in the public domain recording by son of the exiles chapter 13 a square deal dreamin I says to digger Smith old sport and smile ain't there enough joy today to drive the bogey man away and make real things worthwhile to see a stair there's visions on the ill tops there dreamin says digger Smith why not and there is visions too and when I get them sorted out and strafe that little bogey doubt I'll start me life all new I ain't crook but packed in here is thoughts enough to last a year and things says digger Smith I'm thinking big and fine of life and love and all the rest and what is right and what is best and how much will be mine not that I'm wanting over much some work some play and food and such see here I says you are to me I've done some thinking too and this here land for what you did goes some few million solid quid to fight and blokes like you so don't be too damn modest or you'll get less than you're looking for money says digger loot says he I'll give that talk a rest I'm sick of it I didn't say that I was thinking all of pay but what was right and best and that ain't in the crazy a grab and wealth and chase and fame do you think us blokes over there when things was going strong was keeping ledgers day be day and reckoning what the crowd would pay pull off you've got it wrong do you think all the blokes gone west wants great swank headstones on their chest you chaps at home a small idea of what we think and feel we done our bit and seen it through and all that we are asking you is just a fair squared deal we want this land we battled for to settle up and something more we want the land we battled for to be a land worthwhile where sick agreed and ate and strife and all the mess that's made of life he stopped a bit to smile I got these thoughts out there because we learnt what my chip really was the ills behind the orchard trees was showing misty blue the evening light was growing dim and down I sat alongside of him and done some dreaming too our dreams of war and what is paid by blokes that went and blokes that stayed I dreams of honour and reward and how to pay a debt for part in cash and buying farms and fitting chaps with legs and arms ain't all there's something yet there's still a solid balance due and now it's up to me and you there's men I know ain't yet woke up or recognize that debt proud men who wouldn't take you down or owe their grosser half a crown they ain't considered yet there's something Owen to the dead and diggers live for more than bread we learnt what my chip was he says us diggers found the good that's it away somewhere in chaps and ain't searched for enough or prized or understood but all this game a grab and greed and ciliate why where's the need the ills behind the orchard trees just caught the setting sun a bloke might easy think that there way back behind the range somewhere where streaks of sunlight run there was a land swept clear a doubt where men finds what they dreams about beauty says diggers sudden like and love and kindness the chance to live a clean straight life a dinkum deal for kids and wife a man needs nothing less maybe they'll get it when I go to push up daisies I don't know dreamin says diggers Smith why not there's visions on the hill then I gets up and steals away and leaves him with the dying day dreamin and doubting still copper it's up to me and you to see that are these dream comes true the end end of chapter 13 recording by son of the exiles end of diggers Smith by C.J. Dennis