I've 'eard it called, this war—an' it's the truth—
I've 'eard it called the sacrifice uv youth.
An' all this land 'as reckernized it too.
An' gives the boys the praises that is doo.
I've 'eard the cheers for ev'ry fightin' lad;
But, up to now, I ain't 'eard none for Dad.
Ole Flood, an' all 'is kind throughout the land,
They ain't been 'eralded with no brass band,
Or been much thought about; but, take my tip,
The war 'as found 'em with a stiffened lip,
'Umpin' a load they thought they'd dropped for good,
Crackin' reel 'ardy, an'—jist sawin' wood.
Dad Flood, 'is back is bent, 'is strength is gone;
'E'd done 'is bit before this war come on.
At sixty-five 'e thought 'is work was done;
'E gave the farmin' over to 'is son,
An' jist sat back in peace, with 'is ole wife,
To spend content the ev'nin' uv 'is life.
Then come the war. An' when Syd 'esitates
Between the ole folk an' 'is fightin' mates,
The ole man goes outside an' grabs a hoe.
Sez 'e, "Yeh want to, an' yeh ought to go.
Wot's stoppin' yeh?" 'E straightens 'is ole frame.
"Ain't I farmed long enough to know the game?"
