Then comes Gallipoli an' wot Mick calls
"An orl-in push fight multerplied be ten;"
An' one be one the orfficers they falls,
Until there's no one left to lead the men.
Fer 'arf a mo' they 'esitates stock still;
Fer 'oo's to lead 'em up the flam in' 'ill?
'Oo is to lead 'em if it ain't the bloke
'Oo's 'eaded pushes down in Spadger's Lane,
Since 'e first learnt to walk an' swear an' smoke,
An' mixed it willin' both fer fun an' gain—
That narsty, ugly, vi'Ient man, 'oo's got
Grip on the minds uv men when blood runs 'ot?
Mick led 'em; an' be'ind 'im up the rise,
'Owlin' an' cursin', comes that mumma's boy,
'Is cobber, Keith, with that look in 'is eyes
To give the 'eart uv any leader joy.
An' langwidge! If 'is mar at 'ome 'ad 'eard
She would 'a' threw a fit at ev'ry word.
Mick dunno much about wot 'appened then,
Excep' 'e felt 'is Dream uv Stoush come true;
Fer 'im an' Keith they fought like fifty men.
An' felt like gawds wiv ev'ry breath they drew.
Then Ginger gits it solid in the neck.
An' flops; an' counts on passin' in 'is check.
