As they sigh in the setting sun's rays,
Then I'll know that I've done my duty
To the town of my child-hood days.
Bdr Sydney J. Lynch
March 1942
(AWM MSS 1557)
My Mother's Smile
Alone with my thoughts on a tropical isle
As the sun sinks low in the west,
A vision appears with an angelic smile
And I pray that the sun never sets;
For the smile is that of my Mother
None other has such tender care,
And I know she is thinking of me over here
While I'm thinking of her over there;
And today is the day God has given
In remembrance of one who's so dear,
And as time passes on may He grant me
An increase in my love every year.
Bdr Sydney J. Lynch
(AWM MSS 1557)
Dad O' Mine
Midsummer day, and the mad world afighting,
Fighting in holes, Dad o' Mine,
Nature's old spells are no longer delighting
Passion-filled souls, Dad o' Mine,
Vainly the birds in the branches are singing,
Vainly the sunshine its message is bringing,
Over the green-clad earth stark hate is flinging
Shadow for shine, Dad o' Mine,
Shadow for shine.
No one dare prophesy when comes an end to it,
End to the strife, Dad o' Mine,
When we can take joy and once again bend to it,
What's left of life, Dad o' Mine.
Yet for one day we'll let all slip behind us,
So that your birthday, Dad, still may remind us
How strong yet supple the bonds are that bind us
Through shade and shine, Dad o' Mine,
Through shade and shine.
Leagues lie between us, but leagues cannot sever
Links forged by love, Dad o' Mine;
Bonds of his binding are fast bound for ever,
Future will prove, Dad o' Mine.
Your strength was mine since I first lisped your name, Dad,
Your thoughts were my thoughts at lesson or game, Dad,
In childhood's griefs, it was ever the same, Dad.
Your hand round mine, Dad o' Mine,
Your hand round mine.
Strengthened by shadow and shine borne together,
Comrades and chums, Dad o' Mine,
We shall not falter through fair or foul weather,
Whatever comes, Dad o' Mine.
So in the years to be when you grow older,
Age puts his claim in and weakness grows bolder,
We'll stand up and meet them, Dad, shoulder to shoulder,
Your arm in mine, Dad o' Mine,
Your arm in mine.
Lt E.F. Wilkinson, M.C.
(AWM MSS 0671)
Soldier Boy
Soldier Boy gone to war,
To fight and die on a foreign shore,
My blue-eyed boy I do adore,
I fear you're coming home no more.
Soldier Boy in jungle green,
Of blood and dying I do dream,
Heart of my heart please be alive,
When next my letter does arrive!
Oh Soldier Boy, so long away,
God keep you safe each breath I pray!
Dearest one, your letters seem
To be so few and far between.
Oh Soldier Boy so brave and true,
I cry each night my love for you.
Oh Soldier Boy, love of my life,
Please come home to your loving wife!
Greg Brooks
The Setting Sun
As I sit and watch the setting sun,
In its fairest tropic splendour,
My fondest thoughts are carried back
To Mother, kind and tender.
The romantic times I've spent with her
I remember with delight,
For the setting sun reminds me
Of my lonesome one tonight.
When twilight comes with its million stars
And the sunlight rays are retreating,
They seem to kiss the hills goodnight
As we did when last meeting.
And so my prayer tonight is for my loved one lonely
And may the setting sun, in its beams of life and beauty
Spread its sunny rays upon us two
When Australia's done her duty.
D. Greene
New Guinea, 25th November 1942
(AWM PR 83 217)
Desert Evening
Night falling and the stars
Peek out upon the stones and sand.
Cassiopeia
and the
Little Plough
Twinkle in a cloudless sky
And the sun sinks in a flaming glow.
Our thoughts turn to that other life
Of trees and flowers and lawns,
And memories of our dear ones far away
Crowd before the lonely mind.
A distant murmur, broken beat
Of bombers, going on with fell intent
To blast and burn and harry.
Men like us who dream of home
In the evening's quiet peace.
Streaks of light and flashes
Dull thuds and boom of bombs
Which fall upon a fort and bring
In the quiet peace of eve
A grim realisation of uneasy life
Which brooks upon this desert.
Bare, aloof, unfriendly,
Full of hidden things inimical to men.
And besides the dreams of pleasant places,
Of parks and streams and cosy houses
Filled with happy children,
The spectre of a hungry beast,
A beast of prey which strangles one
With thirst, torments with flies,
And hides amongst the rocks
Poisonous things, snakes and scorpions.
And yet again there are timid things of peaceful mood,
Frightened hares and graceful gazelles
Affrighted by our rumbling tanks
And so, our evening dream of home
Is shattered by grim thoughts.
We turn and stoop into our desert home
Dug deep, of stones and sandbags,
And there upon a box or petrol tin
Sit around a makeshift table
And drink our ale or good old Scotch
And forget it all â perhaps?
Soon we bid goodnight.
Creeping to our lonely beds
Not unhappy, yet missing all those things we love.
The job is to be done;
We can endure it all
Till that great day when
We shall be home again.
B. M. Laird
Airmail Palestine
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow,”
The Padre said. Row on row
The rusting hymn books in the sun.
Flickered, were folded, thin as one.
A thousand voices stirred the air were silent,
Heads were bent in prayer.
Above the Padre's voice we heard
An engine drone, just like a bird.
With silvered wings we saw the plane
Above the sandhills out to sea,
Heading with mail to Galilee.
And in the clouds we saw again,
Our homes, the noonday shimmering sun
On the farm, beach and station run.
The stock knee-high in summer grass,
The shearers nodding as we pass.
Each stand: the silos crammed with wheat,
The sheep dogs panting in the heat,
The breakers curl, the lash of foam,
The aching, taunting thoughts of home.
“Praise God from who...” and each man bows
His head to thank his God who sends,
Half way across the world, the mail,
Who deems those engines shall not fail.
But that they bring across the sea,
The mail, to his own Galilee.
Anon
South Australia
In our Great and Wonderful Country
We have beauty from the hills to the sea,
Like the waves on the oceans of our coastline
In our great country
We are free
We cast our thoughts to the early Settlers,
Who came from many other distant lands
To make our Country their homeland
Where the hard toils were done by hand.
When we travel through our great Outback,
Where the cattle sheep and brumbies graze,
With the closing of a beautiful day
It appears that the whole world is ablaze.
'Neath the blue sky in the Bushland
The big gums stand as with pride
As they show their admiration for our Country
And for the Stockmen in Australia who ride.
The Stockmen are up at break of day
As they do in the great Outback,
Riding their horses to the big round up
Far off the beaten track.
We have our spacious farmlands
With acres of golden grain;
Nearby are the herds of cattle grazing
Feeding after the falls of the wonderful rain.
When we travel to our great south-east,
Where the beautiful pine trees grow,
We can see more beauty of our great land â
It is a sight that we all know.
The beautiful City of Adelaide,
Surrounded by parks and trees,
With gardens of beautiful flowers,
The freshness fills the breeze.
Sid Buckingham
Leave the Panels Down
The little grey house had a lonely look,
There wasn't a soul around
But we saw as we crossed the shallow brook
That the slip rails lay on the ground.
We rode in up to the kitchen door
For the stock might take the track,
But a woman said with a weary smile
“My boys are absent many a mile,
And we'll leave the panels down awhile
To wait till the lads come back.”
And over our southern, sunny land
The same great thought holds true,
From the timbered hills to the parching sand
And the wide green stretches too.
All the boys who've done their bit,
Though many a pal we'll lack,
Whether they come from bush or town
Will know they'll find the panels down
To the hearts they left, and the love will crown â
The day that the lads get back.
Lt S. D. Leslie
(AWM 2 DRL 435)
They Also Serve
We've poems to our heroes and the deeds that they have done,
And though their wreaths of laurel are begrudged to them by none,
There are braver souls, I'll warrant, far from trench or North Sea foam,
In the Women of the Empire, in the girls who stayed at home.
They were with us when our transports left our shores two years agone,
In spirit torn and anguished with the sons who they had borne,
They were with us at the landing â that immortal April Day â
And the lads who rushed the beaches bore no braver souls than they.
They were with us at Cape Helles, with a father, husband, son,
With the weary years of waiting for their loved ones just begun;
Ne'er a man fell backward stricken, but the bleeding wound he bore
Was felt by someone waiting on some far-removed shore.
They had no glow of battle such as spurred us on our way,
In a wearying inaction they must pass away each day;
No torment, hardship, hunger, no heat, nor thirst, nor cold,
But they who waited learned it, and felt with us fourfold.
And some have felt the passing of some beloved soul,
Where shrapnel cracked above us, or where Jutland's waters roll;
And some are waiting, waiting with anxious weary brain,
And fearing, praying, hoping with dull soul-searching pain.
Then here's my tribute to them, high or lowly, rich or poor,
The Women of our Empire who have helped us win the war;
To mothers, wives and sweethearts, from every mother's son,
To the Women of our Empire from the âman behind the gun'.
Lt S. D. Leslie
A. A. Pay Corp AIF
(AWM 2 DRL 435)
Safe and Well
When you're suckin' at your pencil
And you don't know what to say
When you wish the bloody censor
Hadn't seen the light of day,
There's always one small item left
Considered good to tell
It doesn't take much writing,
“Dear Mum, I'm safe and well.”
The tucker may be âonkus',
The water pretty crook
You haven't had a drink of beer
Since Wavell took Tobruk,
You've been up before the skipper
For being AWL.
But take your pen and write it down:
“Dear Mum, I'm safe and well.”
You may have beard the Jerry bomber
Come screaming overhead,
And it wasn't very pleasant
To be dodging lumps of lead,
When you're lying in the trenches
'Midst hail of shot and shell
You still have time to send a line â
“Dear Mum, I'm safe and well.”
A grey haired Mother standing
Beside an old bush track
Waiting for the mailman
For news of soldier, Jack,
A smile lights up her worried face
With beauty words can't tell
As she reads the dear familiar words:
“Dear Mother, I'm safe and well.”
Anon
(AWM PR 00526)
Soldiers' Dream
Leaning on my rifle
As I do my two hour shift,
Not very regimental
But my thoughts can't help but drift.
And I dream of my home town
And the girl I left behind,
The days we spent together
Keep running through my mind.
I see fair Sydney Harbour
And the happy carefree throng,
The ferry boat to Manly
And surfing all day long.
The rocks and hills and mountains,
The miles of sun drenched plains,
While golden fields of wheat await
The coming of the rains.
Someday I'll stop my dreaming
Of that far land far away,
For I'll be in fair Australia: