But, partly wot the padre
It gits me when I stare
Out West when it's like that is now.
There must be somethin' else-some'ow.
"I've thought a lot," said Digger Smith-
"Out There I thought a lot.
I thought uv death, an' all the rest,
An' uv me mates, good mates gone West;
An' it ain't much I've got;
But things get movin' in me 'ead
When I look over there," 'e said.
"I've seen so much uv death," said 'e,
"Me mind is in a whirl.
I've 'ad so many thoughts uv late." . . .
Said I, "Now, tell me, tell me straight,
Own up; ain't there a girl?"
Said 'e, "I've done the best I can.
Wot does she want with 'arf a man?"
It weren't no use. 'E wouldn't talk
Uv nothin' but the sky.
Said 'e. "Now, dinkum, talkin' square,
When you git gazin' over there
Don't you 'arf want to cry?
I wouldn't be su'prised to see
An angel comin' out," said 'e.
The gold was creepin' up, the sun
Was 'arf be'ind the range:
It don't seem strange a man should cry
To see that glory in the sky-
To me it don't seem strange.
"Digger!" said 'e. "Look at it now!
There must be somethin' else-some'ow."