To spend content the ev'nin' uv 'is life.

Then come the war. An' when Syd 'esitates
Between the ole folk an' 'is fightin' mates,
The ole man goes outside an' grabs a hoe.
Sez 'e, "Yeh want to, an' yeh ought to go.
Wot's stoppin' yeh?" 'E straightens 'is ole frame.
"Ain't I farmed long enough to know the game?"

There weren't no more to say. An' Syd went--West:
Into the sunset with ole Aussie's best.
But no one ever 'eard no groans from Dad.
Though all 'is pride an' 'ope was in that lad
'E showed no sign excep' to grow more grim.
'Is son was gone--an' it was up to 'im.

One day last month when I was down at Flood's
I seen 'im strugglin' with a bag uv spuds.
"Look 'ere," I sez, "you let me spell yeh, Dad.
You 'umpin' loads like that's a bit too bad."
'E gives a grunt that's more than 'arf a groan.
"Wot's up?" 'e snaps. "Got no work uv yer own?"

That's 'im. But I've been tippin' that the pace
Would tell; an' when 'is wife comes to our place,
An' sez that Dad is ill an' took to bed,
Flat out with work--though that ain't wot she said--
I ain't su'prised; an' tells 'er when I'm thro'
I'll come across an' see wot I can do.