THE ORDERLY'S END.
My race is run, and free from vice, I've scrubhed my way to Paradise, On knees that ache no more. I've signed abroad a heavenly ship To take me on my final trip. Bound for the golden shore. No rising at the stroke of five, As I was forced to do when alive, No "bloods" to do me down, ' No ports to burnish when they're green, The only brightwork that I clean Is on my golden crown. Pray, gentle shipmate, do not weep, Or sprinkle hlcssoms on the heap _That covers such a knave; But place, when darkness hides the land, A stone, a brush, or a little sand Upon my silent grave. — J.G.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/DIGRSA19201015.2.55
Bibliographic details
Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 31, 15 October 1920, Page 15
Word Count
117THE ORDERLY'S END. Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 31, 15 October 1920, Page 15
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