I cud 'a' cried with injured pride. Afore a push the three Got scrappin', vague 'n' foolish, which the cripple boy should be. Sam slips his scientific leg, 'n' flings it in the drain- "I'll auto 'ome," he sez, "or never see me 'ome again." But I am thinkin' 'ard oo he Tucked 'elpiess in the pram might be. Comes sudden reckerlection. Great Gohan- ners, it is me! REPAIRED HAULED I was from out the tip Fritz made with his demonstration, All broke up, a fractured hip In me Darby Kell a rip Settn' up a cool sensation Like excessive ventilation One 'and cluttered up a treat- On me oath you wouldn't know it From a 'andsome plate of meat. They had sorter pied me feet, And a bullet of the foe hit Where no decent bloke could show it. 'Arf a year they've botched me now; Ev'ry scientific schemer In the cor' has faked me prow, Soled 'n' heeled a bloke somehow- Gawd, the last one was a screamer. Wirin' up me flamin' femur! Comes a guy and pipes you square, Gogglin' at you through his glasses, Swings you in the barber's chair, Tilts you this end up with care, Lets you have a whiff of gasses Chattin' off-hand with the lasses. Then he slices clean 'n' swift, Like a cobbler cuts his leather, Gives the splintered knob a lift- S'elp me tater, it's a gift How they glues you all together, Sayin' it's bin nicer weather! Surgeon wipes his 'ands, a verse Chort1e softly as he pitches Probes and sponges to the nurse, Thinks the lunch might have bin worse; Close your little gap he hitches, Whistlin' as he jabs the stitches. I'm caught in with fiddle-strings, Stuck about with bits 'n' patches, Fixed with ligatures 'n' springs, Lath 'n' plastered, swung in slings Skewered with little wooden matches, Hung with hinges, knobs 'n' latches. Till I lay behind me screen, Serious 'n' sober one day, Satisfied 'n' all serene, 'Arf a man 'n' 'arf machine What they winds up ev'ry Monday 'N' it tilts all ways by Sunday. 'Ome again I'll come, a neat, Semi-autymatic loafer, Number up, 'n' all complete, Creakin' round on Collins Street, With a licence (which I'll owe for) My own car and my own shofer! OUT OF KHAKI. I SLUNG me khaki suit to-day. Civilian now front heel to chin I 'op round on a single shin; At home in peace I'm bound to stay. 'N' so they've took me duds away. It 'urt like strippin' off me skin! I put it on three years ago, The ole brown rig. There wasn't then A prouder chicken in the pen. Jist twenty turned, me nibs you'd know For how I give me chest a throw, A man among the best of men. Me little no the touch I give, Me chin's ez solid ez a rock, 'N' level with the Town 'All clock, A five-inch grin across me chiv. "Lor' love us, this is how to live," Sez I, 'n' felt I owned the Block.