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TO OUR CRITIC
FROM AN AUSTRALIAN SOLDIER IN EGYPT.
Aint yer got no blanky savvy,
Have yer got no better use,
Than to fling back home yer inky
Products of your pens abuse.
Do yer think we've all gone dippy,
Since we've landed over here,
Is a a soldier less a soldier!
Cause he socks a pint of beer.
Do yer take yer whisk' and soda,
In a cool and shady spot,
Waited on by little Hebes
Who the boys don't know as 'ot,
Have yer got no loving Mother!
Waiting for yer over 'Ome,
Do you own no smilin sister!
Over there acrost the foam.
Do you thinks they likes you better,
Fer yer tales of drink and shame,
Do yer think they'll praise yer action,
In defamin our fair name.
One swallow makes no summer,
Three schickers not a force,
Where the few makes it a welter
You condems, the lot o'course.
Do yer think yer Gawd Almighty,
Cos yer wears a captain's Stars.
Thinks us blokes is dirt beneath yer,
Men of low degrees & bars.
Say yer cannot be Australian,
Let us say in our defence
Yer can read it on your coinage
Honny soit qui mal y pense.
Cease yer wowseristic whining.
Tell the truth & play the game!
And we only ask fair dinkum!
How we keep Australia's name,
We're not out to fight the Devil,
On a new Salvarmy stunt,
To reform the Arabs morals,
While we're waitin for the front.
Let me ask you Mr Critic
Try and face things with a smile,
Don't be finding all the crook-uns,
Studying them blokes all the while.
Then write home nice and Proper,
"Bout the boys thats all true blue,
And they'll love yer better mister,
This is my advice to you.
Gnr. F.E.WESTBROOK,
4th Battery, A.F.A.
1st. A.I.F. MENA.
–º (COPYRIGHT)
Printing Office LEVI - Zabtia Street, (behind Gen. Post Office)