N' when he sorter fixes me there's some-
thin' in his gaze
That's pensive like. "Move on!" sez he.
"Keep movin' there!" he says.

If after this I dreams of scraps promiscuous
and crool,
The mills in Butcher's Alley when the
watch is on the wine,
Those nights he raided Wylie's shed to break
the two-up school,
I takes a screw at Molly. With a grin that
ain't divine
He's toyin' with a scar of old I reckernise
as mine.

'N' so I'm layin' for it, 'n' I'm wonderin' how
'n' what.
We're signed on with the Germans, 'n' there
ain't a vacant date;
But sure it's comin' to me, 'n' it's comin' 'ard
'n' 'ot.
Me lurk is patient waitin', but I'm trim-
min' while I wait
A brick to jab or swing with, in a willin'
tatertate.

Oh, judge me wonder! There's a scrim that
follers on a raid.
I'm roughin' it all-in with Hans. He sock
me such a bat
I slides on somethin' narsty, 'n' me little grave
is made;
But Molly butts my Hun, 'n' leaves no face
beneath his hat,
'N', "'Scuse me, Mister Herr," sez he, "I have a lien on that!"

He helps me under cover, 'n' he 'ands me
somethin' wet
(I've got a lick or two that leaves me feelin'
pretty sick).
"Lor love yeh, ole John Hop," sez I, "yiv
buried me in debt."
"Don't minton ut at all," he sez, 'n' eyes
me arf-a-tick.
'N' back there in the trench I sits, 'n' trims
another brick.

'Tis all this how a month or more; then
Mollynoo sez he:
"Come aisy, Jumm, yeh loafer, little hell 'n'
all to view.
A job most illegant is on, cut out fer you 'n'
me.
The damnedest, dirtiest fighter on the
Continent is you,
Bar one, yeh gougin' thafe, 'n' that is
Sargin' Mollynoo!"

I take, with knife 'n' pistol, arf a brick to line
me shirt.
We creeps a thousan' yards or so to jigger
up a gun
Which seven Huns is workin' on the Irish like
a squirt.
We gets across them, me 'n' him. I pots
the extra one;
Mick chokes his third in comfort, 'n',
be'old, the thing is done!

He stands above me, rakin' sweat from off his
gleamin' nut.
"Me dipper's leakin', Mick," sez I; "me
leg is bit in two."
Sez he: "Bleed there in comfort, I'm for
bringin' help, ye scut."
He's back in twenty minutes, with a dillied
German crew.
"Three'll carry in the gun," sez he, "the
rest will carry you."

I dunno how he got 'em, but he made them