WW1. Mothers Boy. A poem written for the Molong “Express” 1916

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.