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C J Dennis - A Freak of Spring
Work rating: Low

At any other time of year
It might have passed, but Spring is queer.
   He says somethin` - I dunno -
   Somethin` nasty.  I says, "Ho!"
"Ho, yourself!" he says, an` glares.
I says nothin` - only stares.
   "Coot!" says he . . .  Then up she goes!
   An` I land him on the nose.


It was Spring, Spring, Spring!  Just to hear the thrushes sing
Would make a fellow laugh, or love, or fight like anything.
   Which mood called I wasn`t carin`; I was feelin` fine an` darin`;
So I fetches him a beauty with a lovely left-arm swing.
   Ben Murray staggered back a bit an` howled a wicked word
   Which gave me feelin`s of great joy . . .  An` that`s how it occurred.


"On the sawdust!" yells old Pike,
Gloatin` and bloodthirsty-like.
   "On the sawdust with yeh both!
   Truth to tell, I`m nothin` loth.
I peel off my coat an` vest.
Murray, with his rage suppressed,
   Comes up eager, pale with spite.
   "Glory!" shouts old Pike. "A fight!"


It was Spring, glad Spring, an` the swallows on the wing
Made a man feel kind an` peaceful with their cheery twittering.
   As I watched their graceful wheelin` with a pleasant sort of feelin`
Old man Pike pulled out his ticker, an` the mill-hands made a ring.
   There was gold upon the wattle an` the blackwood was in bud,
   An` I felt the call for action fairly sizzin` in my blood.


Murray comes on like a bull;
Both his eyes with spleen are full.
   Let him have it - left an` right. . . . 
   Pike is bustin` with delight. . . .
Right eye once and left eye twice -
Then he grabs me like a vice. . . .
   Down into the dust we go -
   Bull-dog grip and short-arm blow.


It was Spring!  Mad Spring!  Just to feel him clutch an` cling
Told me plain that life was pelendid an` my strength a precious thing.
   On the sawdust heap we scrambled, while the fellows yelled an` gambled
On the fight; an` Ben loosed curse-words in a never-endin` string.
   Oh, I glimpsed the soft sky shinin` and I smelled the fresh-cut wood;
   An` as we rolled I pummelled him, an` knew the world was good.


"`Tain`t a dog-fight!" shouts Bob Blair.
"Stand up straight an` fight it fair."
   I get end-up with a grin.
   "Time!" yells Pike, an` bangs a tin.
"Corners, boys.  A minute`s spell."
"Good lad, Jim!  You`re doin` well,"
   Says the little Dusty, Dick. . . .
   Murray`s eye is closin` quick.


It was Spring, sweet Spring, an` a man must have his fling:
Healthy men must be respondin` to the moods the seasons bring.
   That sweet air, with scrub scents laden, all my body was invadin`,
Till each breath I drew within me made me feel I was king.
   `Twas the season to be doin` - fondlin` maids, or fightin` men -
   An` I felt my spirit yearnin` for another crack at Ben.


Pike bangs on his tin again.
"Time!" he roars.  "Get to it, men!"
   I come eager, fit to dance;
   Ben spars cautious for a chance.
With a laugh I flick him light;
Then - like lightin` comes his right
   Full an` fair upon the jaw -
   Lord, the purple stars I saw!


It was Spring, wild Spring!  When I felt the sudden sting
Of a clout all unexpected, I was just a maddened thing -
   Just a savage male thing ragin`; battle all my wits engagin`.
Instant I was up an` at him, an` I punched him round the ring.
   I forgot the scents an` season; I lost count of time an` place;
   An` my only aim an` object was to batter Murray`s face.


Pike is dancin` wild with joy;
Dusty Dick howls, "At him, boy!"
   I am at him, fast an` hard.
   Then, as Murray drops his guard,
I get in one, strong an` straight,
Full of emnity an` weight.
   Down he goes; the fellows shout.
   "One!" starts Pike, then. . .  "Ten - an` out!"


It was Spring, gay Spring.  Still were swallows on the wing,
An`, on a sudden, once again I heard the thrushes sing.
   There was gold upon the wattle, an` my recent wish to throttle
Murray, as he lay there groain`, was a far-forgotten thing.
   In the soft blue sky were sailin` little clouds as fine as fluff.
   "Wantin` more?" I asked him gently; but Ben Murray said, "Enough."


"Well done, Jim," says old Bob Blair.
"`Tis the brave deserves the fair."
   An` he laughs an` winks at Pike
   In a way that I don`t like.
"Widders," grins young Dusty Dick,
"Likes a bloke whose hands is quick.
   Now poor Ben can take the sack."
   But I frowns, an` turns my back.


It was Spring, the fickle Spring; an` a most amazin` thing
Came upon me sudden-like an` set me marvellin`.
   For no longer was I lookin` for a wife to do my cookin`,
But for somethin` sweet and tender of the kind that kiss an` cling.
   Oh, for such a one I`d battle, an` I`d win by hook or crook;
   But it did seem sort of foolish to go fightin` for a cook.


Standin` on the sawdust heap
I feel mean an` rather cheap,
   Widows?  Let the widow go!
   What we fought for I don`t know.
Murray offers me his hand:
"Jim, you`ve won; so understand,
   I don`t mean to block your road . . ."
   But I answer, "That be blowed!"


"Why, it`s Spring, man, Spring!"  (An` I gave his fist a wring)
"If you reckoned me your rival, give up thinkin` such a thing.
   I just fought for fun an` frolic, so don`t you get melancholic;
An`, if you have notions yonder, why, buck up an` buy the ring!
   Put some beefsteak on your eye, lad, an` learn how to keep your guard."
   Then I put my coat an` vest on, an` walked homeward . . . thinkin` hard.
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