Molong
Express and Western District Advertiser NSW
20 May
1916
MOTHER'S
BOY.
(Written by Mrs. E Neumann for the "Express").
Bill and
Jack were strong and hearty,
Worked the
farm and sheared the sheep ;
Bert, the
youngest, slim and twenty,
Round his
mother used to keep,
Swept the
house up in the morning.
Pumped the
water from the well,
Lit the
copper when 'twas wash-day
Cooked the
breakfast, rang the bell
Wore long
curls when a kiddie
(Mother
keeps them in a box)
“Mother’s
Boy" the family called him
Since he
toddled round in socks.
Bill and
Jack played cricket, football,
Went out
coursing, dogs and gun;
Sunday was
their day for pleasure
And dad
would often join the fun.
“Mother's
Boy" the old mare harnessed
To the buggy
brown with age,
Drove to
Chapel through the bush track
Found the
hymns and turned the page.
In the
paddock after service
Neighbours
passed the “time of day"
Mother proud
his arm to lean on
Ere for home they drove away.
Then one day
that peaceful homestead
Heard the
murmurings of war,
And the grim
old lion roaring
For his cubs
from near and far.
Bill and
Jack were fierce and warlike,
How they
fought when work was done,
With their
tongues a million Germans
Laid out
flat or on the run.
Young Bert
listened very quiet
Slipped away
with face so white
(Mother
thought about it after)
For he kissed
her twice “good night"
In the
morning he was missing
Bill and
Jack let out a jeer,—
"Hid
'isself the bloomin' kid'as
Thinks the
Turks is comin' 'ere."
O'er the
farmhouse hung a shadow
For the boy
was full of fun
Though they
teased him for a
coward
He was loved
by everyone
Then a “wire"
came from Sydney
“Down here for a little change"
When Dad
read it, growled fiercely,
“Youngster's
gettin' out o'range.'
"One
fine morn a ringing “cooee,”
Mother gazed
out in surprise
Sees a
soldier dressed in khaki
Breast the
hill atop the rise.
“Tis her
boy" the fond heart falters
As to meet
him quick she ran,
Then she
stumbled but he caught her;
“Mother's
Boy" had grown a man.
Loud the
bell clanged out for dinner
“That's the
kid" the brothers yell
When they
saw him dressed in khaki
Laughter
stopped, their faces fell.
“Strip them
togs off roared out Father,
“I forbid
ye—youngest son"
Clinging
arms went quickly round him,
But—the
boy's first fight was won.
Bill and
Jack played cricket, football
Went out
coursing, dogs and gun
Sunday was
their day for pleasure,
And dad
would often join the fun.
Mother sat
at home and fretted
For the boy
she loved so dear.
Months had
passed without a letter
And her days
were grey with fear.
So to ease
the mother hunger,
Took his
curls from out the box,
Straightened
them and kissed them fondly;
And his
little baby socks.
Dancing
sunbeams all a 'flutter
Threw a
queer shape on the floor
Next a
bearded man on crutches
Stepped
inside the kitchen door.
“Mother !
Mother !" (he was real then) ;
“No news
came—I didn't know"
He was
crippled, one-armed, helpless—
On his
breast the D.S.O.
From her
eyes shone out a glory,
Gone was all
the hungry pain,
Her's the
joy to love and tend him
“Mother's
Boy" was home again.
Image from "The Mirror" Sydney NSW. 21 June 1918.
