THE DIGGER

Camp News, Volume 3, Issue 153, 18 December 1942, Page 3

THE DIGGER

Just in,front of the officers’ quarters There is a plot of land, And to lay it out in lawn and shrubs The Commandant has planned. He has studied t up the gardening notes, For this landscape must have charm; And I’ve seen him trying to puzzle it out With , his stick beneath his arm. But to-day I saw him at his best, It was a splendid show, He was digging in the garden With a navvie’s long banjo. I’ve seen him take the troops’ salute, And I’ve seem him on parade; But you should see our,. Commandant With a shovel or a spade. He turns the sod with the greatest skill, He has Semple beat a mile, And even his heavy battle-dress . Failed to cramp his style. There is no doubt about it He’s a digger through and through, And he knows his horticulture Like the master gardeners do. So if ever you can’t find him, I’ll let you in the know, He’ll be digging in the garden With his navvie’s long banjo. —J.P., Ngaruawahia. *• IT’S LIKE THAT! Transport boxing tournament was in full swing. “Dynamite Dan” had just taken the count as a result of a hefty swing from a mystery fighter known as “TNT.” “Next event on the programme,” bawled the announcer, “will be the first bout of the heavyweight division.” “‘Bluey” Johnson!” he called. No answer. » “‘Tiger’ Jones!” Still no answer. After a pause he called again. Silence! Then a voice from the back of the crowd—it seemed to carry conviction —piped up with: “‘Bluey’s down in the canteen drinkin b’eer.” “Oh, is he?” sarcastically drawled the announcer. “And where’s Jones?” “ ’E’s ’elpin’ ’im ter drink it,” was the snappy reply. * * , * WHEN THE WAR WILL END. Actual evidence I have none, But my aunt’s charwoman’s sister’s son Heard a policeman, on his beat, Say to a housemaid in Downing Street That he had a brother, who had a friend Who knew when the war was going to end.