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C J Dennis - Rabbits
Work rating: Low

"Ar!  Gimme fights wiv foeman I kin see,
   To upper-cut an` wallop on the jor.
Life in a burrer ain`t no good to me.
         `Struth!  This ain`t war!
Gimme a ding-dong go fer `arf a round,
An` you kin `ave this crawlin` underground.

"Gimme a ragin`, `owlin`, tearin`, scrap,
   Wiv room to swing me left, an` feel it land.
This `idin`, sneakin` racket makes a chap
         Feel secon`-`and.
Stuck in me dug-out `ere, down in a `ole,
I`m feelin` like I`ve growed a rabbit`s soul."

Ole Ginger`s left the `orspital, it seems;
   `E`s back at Anzac, cursin` at the game;
Fer this `ere ain`t the fightin` uv `is dreams;
         It`s too dead tame.
`E`s got the oopizootics reely bad,
An` `idin` in a burrer makes `im mad.

`E sort o` takes it personal, yeh see.
   `E used to `awk `em fer a crust, did Mick.
Now, makin` `im play rabbits seems to be
         A narsty trick.
To shove `im like a bunny down a `ole
It looks like chuckin` orf, an` sours `is soul.

"Fair doos," `e sez, "I joined the bloomin` ranks
   To git away frum rabbits: thinks I`m done
Wiv them Australian pests, an` `ere`s their thanks:
         They makes me one!
An` `ere I`m squattin`, scared to shift about;
Jist waitin` fer me little tail to sprout.

"Ar, strike me up a wattle! but it`s tough!
   But `ere`s the dizzy limit, fer a cert -
To live this bunny`s life is bad enough,
         But `ere`s reel dirt:
Some tart at `ome `as sent, wiv lovin` care,
A coat uv rabbit-skins fer me to wear!

"That`s done it!  Now I`m nibblin` at the food,
   An` if a dawg shows up I`ll start to squeal;
I s`pose I orter melt wiv gratichude:
         `Tain`t `ow I feel.
She might `a` fixed a note on wiv a pin:
`Please, Mister Rabbit, yeh fergot yer skin!`

"I sees me finish!… War?  Why, this ain`t war!
   It`s ferritin`!  An` I`m the bloomin` game.
Me skin alone is worth the `untin` for -
         That tart`s to blame!
Before we`re done, I`ve got a silly scare,
Some trappin` Turk will catch me in snare.

"`E`ll skin me, wiv the others `c `as there,
   An` shove us on a truck, an` bung us `round
Constantinople at a bob a pair -
         Orl fresh an` sound!
`Eads down, `eels up, `e`ll `awk us in a row
Around the `arems, `owlin `Rabbee-oh!`

"But, dead in earnest, it`s a job I `ate.
   We`ve got to do it, an` it`s gittin` done;
But this soul-dopin` game uv sit-an`-wait,
         It ain`t no fun.
There`s times I wish, if we weren`t short uv men,
That I wus back in `orspital again.

"Ar, `orspital!  There is the place to git.
   If I thort Paradise wus `arf so snug
I`d shove me `ead above the parapit
         An` stop a slug;
But one thing blocks me playin` sich a joke;
I want another scrap before I croak.

"I want it bad. I want to git right out
   An` plug some josser in the briskit-`ard.
I want to `owl an` chuck me arms about,
         An` jab, an` guard.
An` swing, an` upper-cut, an` crool some pitch,
Or git passed out meself - I don`t care w`ich.

"There`s some blokes `ere they`ve tumbled to a stunt
   Fer gittin` `eni the spell that they deserves.
They chews some cordite when life at the front
         Gits on their nerves.
It sends yer tempracher clean out uv sight,
An`, if yeh strike a simple doc, yer right.

"I tries it once.  Me soul `ad got the sinks,
   Me thorts annoyed me, an` I `ad the joes,
I feels like no one loves me, so I thinks,
         Well, Mick, `ere goes!
I breaks a cartridge open, chews a bit,
Reports I`m sick, an` throws a fancy fit.

"Me lovin` sargint spreads the gloomy noos,
   I gits paraded; but, aw, `Struth! me luck!
It weren`t no baby doc I interviews,
         But some ole buck
Wiv gimblet eyes.  `Put out yer tongue!` `e `owls.
Then takes me temp, an` stares at me, an` growls.

"`Well, well,` `e sez.  `Wot is yer trouble, lad?`
   I grabs me tummy `ard, an` sez I`m ill.
`You are,` sez `e.  `Yeh got corditis, bad.
         Yeh need a pill.
Before yeh go to sleep,` `e sez, `to-night,

Swaller the bullet, son, an` you`ll be right.`

"`0w`s that fer rotten luck?  But orl the same,
   I ain`t complainin` when I thinks it out.
I seen it weren`t no way to play the game,
         This pullin` out.
We`re orl uv us in this to see it thro`,
An` bli`me, wot we`ve got to do, we`ll do.

"But `oles an` burrers!  Strike!  An` this is war!
   This is the bonzer scrappin` uv me dreams!
A willin` go is wot I bargained for,
         But `ere it seems
I`ve died, someway, an` bin condemned to be
Me own Wile Rabbee fer eternity.

"But `orspital!  I tell yeh, square an` all,
   If I could meet the murderin` ole Turk
`0o`s bullet sent me there to loaf an` sprawl,
         An` dodge me work,
Lord!  I`d shake `an`s wiv `im, an` thank `im well
Fer givin` me a reel ole bonzer spell.

"`E might `a` tnade it jist a wee bit worse.
   I`d stand a lot uv that before I`d scream.
The grub wus jist the thing; an`, say, me nurse I
         She wus a dream!
I used to treat them tony tarts wiv mirth;
But now I know why they wus put on earth.

"It treated me reel mean, that wound uv mine;
   It `ealed too quick, considerin` me state.
An` `ere I am, back in the firin` line
         Gamblin` wiv Fate.
It`s like two-up: I`m `eadin` `em this trip;
But Iookin`, day be day, to pass the kip.

"You tell Doreen, yer wife, `ow I am chock
   Full to the neck wiv thanks fer things she sends.
Each time I shoves me foot inside a sock
         I bless sich friends.
I`m bustin` wiv glad thorts fer things she did;
So tell `er I serloots `er, an` the kid.

"Make `im a soljer, chum, when `c gits old.
   Teach `im the tale uv wot the Anzacs did.
Teach `im `e`s got a land to love an` hold.
         Gawd bless the kid!
But I`m in `opes when `is turn comes around
They`ll chuck this style uv rootin` underground.

"We`re up agin it, mate; we know that well.
   There ain`t a man among us wouldn`t lob
Over the parapit an` charge like `ell
         To end the job.
But this is war; an` discipline - well, lad,
We sez we `ates it; but we ain`t too bad.

"Glory an` gallant scraps is wot I dreamed,
   Ragin` around an` smashin` foeman flat;
But war, like other thngs, ain`t wot it seems.
         So `stid uv that,
I`m sittin; in me dug-out scrawlin` this,
An` thankin` Gawd when shells go by - an` miss.

"I`m sittin` in me dug-out day be day -
   It narks us; but Australia`s got a name
Fer doin` little jobs like blokes `oo play
         A clean straight game.
Wiv luck I might see scrappin` `fore I`m done,
Or go where Craig `as gone, an` miss the fun.

"But if I dodge, an` keep out uv the rain,
   An` don`t toss in me alley `fore we wins;
An` if I lobs back `ome an` meets the Jane
         `Oo sent the skins -
These bunnies` overcoats I lives inside -
I`ll squeal at `er, an` run away an` `ide.

"But, torkin` straight, the Janes `as done their bit.
   I`d like to `ug the lot, orl on me pat!
They warms us well, the things they`ve sewed an` knit:
         An` more than that -
I`d like to tell them dear Australian tarts
The spirit uv it warms Australian `earts."
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