"The Kid from Timaru"

Levin Daily Chronicle, 2 April 1918, Page 1

"The Kid from Timaru"

("A sunny-faced youngster from Timaru —he was always cracking up his little town—fought like a young tiger. He's in hospital now, but will be heard of again.''—Extract from a soldier's letter.) The boys aboard the transport were busy talking "fight," We'd just begun our journey, said '' Goodbye'' to Farewell light, Some were skitin' awful of the deeds they meant to do, When he butted in promiskus with — "I'm Kidd from Timaru." His years were twenty; wavin' hair above two steel-grey eyes, A laughing' face —you know the sort — the smile that makes smiles rise; At first we barely noticed him until again he drew Attention by.repeatin' his—"l'm Kidd from Timaru." Oh! Timaru —that tiny town —he'd got it on the brain, We'd start to talk of many things but he stuck to one refrain; We hoped we might see London, p'raps Berlin and Paris, too; And then he calmly asked us if we'd been in Timaru. And he'd a girl in Timaru —a girl with Irish eyes— "A genuine oil paintin' "; guessed she'd tumbled from the skies He referred to her as "scrumptious"— was satisfied he knew That her eyes were fixed on Egypt, though she lived in Timaru. Egyptl Well we got there, to its endless sand and sun, Then drilling, always drilling—a case of never done; Sand and sand, fierce burning sand, our red hot curses drew, And Kidd admitted Egypt had more sand than Timarm. Then came the news that we could get a chance to win our spurs, To play the game and show our breed was not a breed of curs, We were ordered off to Gaba to face tho Turkish crew, We yelled "New Zealand will be there," —Kidd said "and Timaru. '' ■ - ■ i A rousin, cheer, that split the sky, went boomin' through the air; We vow'd when we struck Gaba they'd know that we were there. We swore for King and Country, our very best to do, Kidd swore for King and Country—but added—Timaru. The world knows how we played the game on Gaba Tepc shore, How ploughin' through the gates of Hell, the brunt of fire we bore, Blood-painted sand proclaimed the doom of comrades good and true; But bullets somehow seemed to miss Young Kidd from Timaru. We faced "Loosed Hell" as scrunching oe 'r the sand we scaled the cliff While Turkish snipers' rifles mowed men down at every whiff; No felows stopped to count the cost as up the bank we flew, And level with the foremost ran young Kidd from Timaru. Old Abdul under cover was as eunnin' as a rat; As yet we'd done no shootin' —saw nothin' to shoot at. Till a Turkey popped his head up; that head he ne'er withdrew, For a rifle pinged, the sergeant said, "Turk's head for Timaru." And when the fight was over, and each had done his part, And felt a man and soldier, with aching eye and heart, I searched among the wounded, for the fellows that I knew, i I turned one over on the sand—'twas Kidd from Timaiu. He'd carried in his captain, almost dying, through the wrack Of smoke and fire and battle; but just as he'd got back, A Turkish sniper "pink'd" him, but the bullet went clean through, And when he's well they'll hear again from Kidd of Timaru. We both could do with patchin' so they popped us into dock, Where we lie, with many others, with our eyes fixed on the clock, Wonderin' when the time will come, when we're well enough to do Some more for old New Zealand —Kidd Some more for Timaru. Last week a "head" slipped in and read a cable from the King; He thanked his "gallant soldiers 1" we made the sick room ring With cheers — real rousin' hearty cheers—then Kidd said '' Strike me blue, I hope to God he's not forgot to cable Timaru.'' Barrie Marschel.