C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Take the first poem for instance, where the Sentimental Bloke gets the hump. How many men, in how many different parts of the world—and of how many different languages—have had the same feeling—the longing for something better—to be something better? ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ No man ever entered on a better fight with his fellow citizens, with the Governors, with the British Government, with the scientists, with the judicial authorities, indeed with almost every authority that was there to be fought, than John Macarthur when he undertook singlehanded the great fight which finally established the wool industry in Australia. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ Flinders has waited a century for his biographer, and it was worth this silence of a hundred years to find Ernest Scott.... And to this fervour of research must be added Ernest Scott's lucid literary style and his interest in the personal side of his subject. Equipment, style, sympathy, and his subject combine to make a brilliant achievement in biography.... A word must in mere justice be added in praise of the publishers. The appearance of the book is worthy of its contents." LIFE OF LAPÉROUSE. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ No one has so truly interpreted the Indian mind no one, transcribing Indian thought into our literature, has retained so high and serious a level, and quite apart from the rarity of themes and setting the verses remain true poems. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ This ev'nin' I was sittin' wiv Doreen, Peaceful an' 'appy wiv the day's work done, Watchin', be'ind the orchard's bonzer green, The flamin' wonder of the settin' sun. Another day gone by; another night Creepin' along to douse Day's golden light; Another dawnin', when the night is gone, To live an' love—an' so life mooches on. Times I 'ave thought, when things was goin' crook, When 'Ope turned nark an' Love forgot to smile, Of somethin' I once seen in some old book Where an ole sore-'ead arsts, "Is life worf w'ile?" ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ Sydney Morning Herald: "Mr. Allen is one of the select band who are saturated with classic lore and who seek to translate the beings of pagan mythology to the Australian bush. 'Gods and Wood Things' contains both prose and verse—the latter rhapsodical, the former mystical." BUSHLAND STORIES. By Amy Eleanor Mack. Second edition, with coloured illustrations and decorated cloth cover, 3s. 6d. (postage 2d.) Academy: "It is not often that we have the pleasure to welcome from Australia a book of so many charming short stories as are contained in the volume before us." ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ To whip the cat; an' then see my Doreen. To see the colour comin' in 'er cheeks, To see 'er eyes grow brighter day be day, The new, glad way she looks an' laughs an' speaks Is worf ten times the things I've chucked away. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ Count, to take the.—In pugilism, to remain prostrate for ten counted seconds, and thus lose the fight. Cove.—A "chap" or "bloke." q.v. (Gipsy) . Cow.—A thoroughly unworthy, not to say despicable person, place, thing, or circumstance. A fair cow.—An utterly obnoxious and otherwise inexpressible person, place, thing, or circumstance. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ They smashes things an' carries on a treat, An' 'owls an' scolds an' wakes the bloomin' street Wiv noisy mag. But 'er—she never speaks; she never stirs... I drops me bundle... An' the game is 'ers. Jist two months wed! Eight weeks uv married bliss Wiv my Doreen, an' now it's come to this! Wot wus I thinkin' uv? Gawd! I ain't fit To kiss the place 'er little feet 'as been! 'Er that I called me wife, me own Doreen! Fond dreams 'as flit; Love's done a bunk, an' joy is up the pole; An' shame an' sorrer's roostin' in me soul. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Fer country life ain't cigarettes and beer." "I'm game," I sez. Sez Uncle, "Put it 'ere!" Like that I took the plunge, an' slung the game. I've parted wiv them joys I 'eld most dear; I've sent the leery bloke that bore me name Clean to the pack wivout one pearly tear; An' frum the ashes of a ne'er-do-well A bloomin' farmer's blossomin' like 'ell. Farmer! That's me! Wiv this 'ere strong right 'and I've gripped the plough; and blistered jist a treat. Doreen an' me 'as gone upon the land. Yours truly fer the burden an' the 'eat! ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ An' sparrers chirpin' 'igh the 'ole day long; An' on the air a sad, sweet music breaves A bonzer song— A mournful sorter choon thet gits a bloke Fair in the brisket 'ere, an' makes 'im choke ... What is the matter wiv me?...I dunno. I got a sorter yearnin' 'ere inside, A dead-crook sorter thing that won't let go Or be denied— A feelin' like I want to do a break, An' stoush creation for some woman's sake. The little birds is chirpin' in the nest, The parks an' gardings is a bosker sight, Where smilin' tarts walks up an' down, all dressed In clobber white. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ To walk away, 'er arms is roun' me neck. "Ah, Kid!" she sobs. "Yeh nearly broke me 'eart!" I dunno wot I done or wot I said. But 'struth! I'll not forgit it till I'm dead— That night when 'ope back in me brisket lobs: 'Ow my Doreen she lays 'er little 'ead Down on me shoulder 'ere, an' sobs an' sobs; An' orl the lights goes sorter blurred an' red. Say, square an' all—It don't seem right, some'ow, To say such things; but wot I'm feelin' now 'As come at times, I s'pose, to uvver men When you 'ave 'ad a reel ole ding-dong row, Say, ain't it bonzer makin' up agen? ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ A suddin notion stops me wiv a jar— Wot if Doreen, I thinks, should grow to be, A fat ole weepin' willer like 'er Mar! O, 'struth! It won't bear thinkin' of! It's crook! An' I'm a mean, unfeelin' dawg to look At things like that. Doreen's Doreen to me, The sweetest peach on w'ich a man wus shook. 'Er "pore dear Par"...I s'pose 'e 'ad 'is day, An' kissed an' smooged an' loved 'er in 'is way. An' wed an' took 'is chances like a man— But, Gawd, this splicin' racket ain't all play. Love is a gamble, an' there ain't no certs. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ To part wiv any tart 'e's trackin' wiv. That all their pretty ways is crook pretence Is plain to any bloke wiv common-sense. But when the birds is nestin' in the spring, An' when the soft green leaves is in the bud, 'E drops 'is bundle to some fluffy thing. 'E pays 'er 'omage—an' 'is name is Mud. She plays wiv'im an' kids 'im on a treat, Until she 'as 'im crawlin' at 'er feet. An' then, when 'e's fair orf 'is top wiv love, When she 'as got 'im good an' 'ad 'er fun, She slings 'im over like a carst-orf glove, To let the other tarts see wot she's done. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ All faint an' groggy grows the beaten Day; 'E staggers drunkenly about the ring; An owl 'oots jeerin'ly across the way, An' bats come out to mock the fallin' King. Now, wiv a jolt, Night spreads 'im on the floor, An' all the west grows ruddy wiv 'is gore. A single, vulgar star leers from the sky An' in derision, rudely mutters, "Yah!" The moon, Night's conkerbine, come glidin' by An' laughs a 'eartless, silvery "Ha-ha!" Scorned, beaten, Day gives up the 'opeless fight, An' drops 'is bundle in the lap o' Night. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Geewhizz—Exclamation expressing surprise. Get, to do a—To retreat hastily. Gilt—Money; wealth. Give, to—In one sense, to care. Gizzard—The heart. Glassey—The glassy eye; a glance of cold disdain. The Glassey Alley—The favourite; the most admired. Glim—A light. Going (while the going is good) —While the path is clear. Gone (fair gone) —Overcome, as with emotion. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ WINE AND ROSES: A New Volume of Poems. By Victor J. Daley. With portrait. Cloth gilt, gilt top, 3s. 6d.; full morocco, gilt edges, 6s. (postage 2d.) Daily Telegraph: "Most of his verse is tinged with sadness—as in most Irish poetry—but there is a fine imaginative quality that lifts it to a far higher plane than that of the conventional melancholy rhymer. There are poems in this book that recall the magic of Rossetti... Victor Daley has left his mark in the beginnings of an Australian literature." HOW HE DIED, AND OTHER POEMS. By John Farrell. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Fer when a bloke 'as come to know Doreen, It ain't the same. There's 'igher things, she sez, for blokes to do. An' I am 'arf believin' that it's true. Yes, 'igher things—that wus the way she spoke; An' when she looked at me I sorter felt That bosker feelin' that comes o'er a bloke, An' makes 'im melt; Makes 'im all 'ot to maul 'er, an' to shove 'Is arms about'er...Bli'me? but it's love! That's wot it is. An' when a man 'as grown Like that 'e gets a sorter yearn inside To be a little 'ero on 'is own ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ I'm trustin', later on," sez Ginger Mick, "To celebrate the chris'nin'."... 'Oly wars! At last Doreen an' me we gits away, An' leaves 'em doin' nothin' to the scran. (We're honey-moonin' down beside the Bay.) I gives a 'arf a dollar to the man Wot drives the cab; an' like two kids we ran To ketch the train—Ah, strike! I could 'a' flown! We gets the carridge right agin the van. She whistles, jolts, an' starts... An' we're alone! Doreen an' me! My precious bit o' fluff! Me own true wedded wife!... An' we're alone! ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ I've got the 'ole bang tribe o' cliners set! The 'ole world over they are all the same: Crook to the core the bunch of 'em—an' yet We could 'a' been that 'appy, 'er an' me... But, wot's it matter? Ain't I glad I'm free? A bloke wiv commin-sense 'as got to own There's little 'appiness in married life. The smoogin' game is better left alone, Fer tarts is few that makes the ideel wife. An' them's the sort that loves wivout disguise, An' thinks the sun shines in their 'usban's' eyes. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Doreen!...But wot was this I starts to say About the play? I'm off me beat. But when a bloke's in love 'Is thorts turns 'er way, like a 'omin' dove. This Romeo 'e's lurkin' wiv a crew— A dead tough crowd o' crooks—called Montague. 'Is cliner's push—wot's nicknamed Capulet— They 'as 'em set. Fair narks they are, jist like them back-street clicks, Ixcep' they fights wiv skewers 'stid o' bricks. Wot's in a name? Wot's in a string o' words? They scraps in ole Verona with the'r swords, An' never give a bloke a stray dog's chance, An' that's Romance. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ I done me block complete on this Doreen, An' now me 'eart is broke, me life's a wreck! The dreams I dreamed, the dilly thorts I thunk Is up the pole, an' joy 'as done a bunk. Wimmin! O strike! I orter known the game! Their tricks is crook, their arts is all dead snide. The 'ole world over tarts is all the same; All soft an' smilin' wiv no 'eart inside. But she fair doped me wiv 'er winnin' ways, Then crooled me pitch fer all me mortal days. They're all the same! A man 'as got to be Stric' master if 'e wants to snare 'em sure. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Fer, as the poit sez, me 'eart 'as got The pip wiv yearnin' fer—I dunno wot. I'm crook; me name is Mud; I've done me dash; Me flamin' spirit's got the flamin' 'ump! I'm longin' to let loose on somethin' rash.... Aw, I'm a chump! I know it; but this blimed ole Springtime craze Fair outs me, on these dilly, silly days. The young green leaves is shootin' on the trees, The air is like a long, cool swig o' beer, The bonzer smell o' flow'rs is on the breeze, An' 'ere's me, 'ere, Jist moochin' round like some pore, barmy coot, Of 'ope, an' joy, an' forchin destichoot. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ I only know the wisdom o' the 'eart. An' ever it 'as taught me, day be day, The one same lesson in the same ole way: "Look fer yer profits in the 'earts o' friends, Fer 'atin' never paid no dividends." Life's wot yeh make it; an' the bloke 'oo tries To grab the shinin' stars frum out the skies Goes crook on life, an' calls the world a cheat, An' tramples on the daisies at 'is feet. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ An' when 'e won't put up 'is 'ands to fight— ('E sez, "Fer public brawls 'e didn't care") — I lays 'im 'cross me knee, the mother's joy, An' smacks 'im 'earty, like a naughty boy. An' now Doreen she sez I've broke me vow, An' mags about this coot's pore, "wounded pride." An' then, o' course, we 'as a ding-dong row, Wiv 'ot an' stormy words on either side. She sez I done it outer jealousy, An' so, we parts fer ever—'er an' me. Me jealous? Jealous of that cross-eyed cow! ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Puffed up wiv pride, an' livin' mighty 'igh, 'E don't admit that Night is on the earth. But as the hours creep on 'e deigns to state 'E'll fight for all the earth an' 'arf the gate. Late afternoon...Day feels 'is flabby arms, An' tells 'imself 'e don't seem quite the thing. The 'omin' birds shriek clamorous alarms; An' Night creeps stealthily to gain the ring. But see! The champeen backs an' fills, becos 'E doesn't feel the Boshter Bloke 'e was. Time does a bunk as us-u-al, nor stays A single instant, e'en at Day's be'est. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ An' I kin but recall wiv tears an' sighs The lives of some I've seen in marridge gived." "My Gawd!" I sez. "I'll strive as no bloke strivved! Fer don't I know I've copped a bonzer prize?" "Young friend," 'e sez. "Young friend," 'e sez. An' in 'is gentle way, 'E pats the shoulder of my dear Doreen. "I've solem'ized grand weddin's in me day, But 'ere's the sweetest little maid I've seen. She's fit fer any man, to be 'is queen; An' you're more forchinit than you kin say, Young friend," 'e sez. "Young friend," 'e sez...A queer ole pilot bloke, Wiv silver 'air. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
(1917)
“ On ledding feet. I wish't they'd do a guy. I dunno 'ow I 'ad the nerve ter speak, An' make that meet wiv 'er fer Sund'y week! But strike! It's funny wot a bloke 'll do When 'e's all out.... She's gorn, when I come-to. I'm yappin' to me cobber uv me mash.... I've done me dash! 'Er name's Doreen.... An' me—that thort I knoo The ways uv tarts, an' all that smoogin' game! An' so I ort; fer ain't I known a few? Yet some'ow... I dunno. It ain't the same. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ But 'e jist laughs, an' takes it fer a joke. "We must ixcuse," 'e sez, "new-married folk." An' I pays up, an' grins, an' blushes red.... It shows 'ow married life improves a bloke: If I'd bin single I'd 'a' punched 'is head! XI. Beef Tea She never magged; she never said no word; But sat an' looked at me an' never stirred. I could 'a' bluffed it out if she 'ad been Fair narked, an' let me 'ave it wiv 'er tongue; But silence told me 'ow 'er 'eart wus wrung. Poor 'urt Doreen! Gorstruth! I'd sooner fight wiv fifty men Than git one look like that frum 'er agen! She never moved ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Who's met wiv slabs of sorrer in 'is day, When 'e is truly rich an' truly blest. An' I am rich, becos me eyes 'ave seen The lovelight in the eyes of my Doreen; An' I am blest, becos me feet 'ave trod A land 'oo's fields reflect the smile o' God. Livin' an' lovin'; learnin' to fergive The deeds an' words of some un'appy bloke Who's missed the bus—so 'ave I come to live, An' take the 'ole mad world as 'arf a joke. ”
C. J. Dennis,
The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke
“ Fer when yeh've come to weigh the good an' bad— The gladness wiv the sadness you 'ave 'ad— Then 'im 'oo's faith in 'uman goodness fails Fergits to put 'is liver in the scales. Livin' an' lovin'; learnin' day be day; Pausin' a minute in the barmy strife To find that 'elpin' others on the way Is gold coined fer your profit—sich is life. I've studied books wiv yearnings to improve, To 'eave meself out of me lowly groove, An' 'ere is orl the change I ever got: "'Ark at yer 'eart, an' you kin learn the lot." ”
