I looks, an' seen a tough bloke, short an' thin.
Then, Lord! I recomembers that ole grin.
"It's little Smith!" I 'owls, "uv Collin'wood.
Lad, this is good!
Last time I seen yeh, you an' Ginger Mick
Was 'owling rags, out on yer final kick."
"Yer on to it," 'e sez. "Nex' day we sailed.
Now 'arf uv me's back 'ome, an' 'arf they nailed.
An' Mick. . . . Ar, well, Fritz took me down a peg."
'E waves 'is leg.
"It ain't too bad," 'e sez, with 'is ole smile;
"But when I starts to dig it cramps me style.
"But I ain't grouchin'. It was worth the fun.
We 'ad some picnic stoushin' Brother 'Un—
The only fight I've 'ad that some John 'Op
Don't come an' stop.
They pulled me leg a treat, but, all the same.
There's nothin' over 'ere to beat the game.
"An' now," 'e sez, "I'm 'ere to do a job
I promised, if it was me luck to lob
Back 'ome before me mate," 'e sez, an' then,
'E grins again.
"As clear as mud," I sez. "But I can't work
Me brains to 'old yer pace. Say, wot's the lurk?"
