Poem - Edward Dyson

Billjim

By Edward Dyson

Down to it is Plugger Bill,

 Lyin’ crumpled, white ’n’ still.

         Me ’n’ him

 Chips in when the scrap begins,

 Carin’ nothin’ for our skins,

 Chi-iked as the ’Eavenly Twins—

        Bill ’n’ Jim.

They ’ave outed Bill at last,

 Slugged me cobber hard ’n’ fast.

         It’s a kill.

 See the purple of his lip

’N’ the red ’n’ oozy drip!

 Ends our great ole partnership—

        Jim ’n’ Bill

Mates we was when we was kids;

 Camp, ’n’ ship, ’n’ Pyramids,

         Him ’n’ me

 Hung together, ’n’ we tore

 Up the heights from Helles shore,

 Bill a long ’arf head afore,

         Fine to see!

Then it was we took a touch—

Simple puncture, nothin’ much;

         But we lay

’N’ we stays the count, it seems,

 In a sorter realm of dreams

 Where the sun infernal gleams

         Night ’n’ day;

Boilin’, fryin’ achin’, dumb,

 Waitin’ till the stretchers come,

         Patiently.

 I hangs on to ’arf a cup.

 Which I wants ole Bill to sup.

 Damn if he ain’t savin’ up

         His for me!

When they come to lift my head

 I am softly kiddin’ dead,

         For a game,

 So’s they’ll first take on his gills.

 Over, though, me scheme he spills—

Bli’me, this ole take-down Bill’s

         Done the same!

But he isn’t kiddin’ now,

 And it knocks me anyhow

         Seein’ him.

 We was both agreed before,

 Though it got ’em by the score,

 Two was goin’ to beat this war—

        Bill ’n’ Jim.

Mate o’ mine, yiv stayed it through.

 Hard luck, Bill—for me ’n’ you

         Hard ’n’ grim.

 They have got me Cobber true,

 But I’m stickin’ tight ez glue. . . .

 Bill, there’s one who’ll plug for two—

        It is Jim!