“Pink” [poem by “Dryblower” Murphy, 1926]

[Editor: This poem by “Dryblower” Murphy was published in Dryblower’s Verses (1926).]


(Private David Simcock, known as ‘Pink Top,’ died a hero at the Dardanelles).

I carnt berleeve ’e’s gorn —
Pore ole Pink —
Bullet ’it an’ shrapnel torn,
In a wink,
’Cos us wot knoo ’im well
Seemed ter think ’e ’ad a spell
Wot ud git ’im out of ’ell,
Fair the dink.

’E was “Pink Top” with the mob —
Good ole Pink!
But with business on the job
’E could think.
’E never whined or wailed,
As a friend ’e never failed,
An’ menny a bloke ’e’s bailed
Outer clink.

’E was allus Pink to us —
Pushin’ Pink:
In an argument or fuss
Or a drink.
Though ’e couldn’t fight for nuts,
They got all the upper-cuts,
’Cos yer see, ’e ’ad the guts —
Wotter yer think?

I’ve seen ’im in a brawl
Full of ink,
When a burly man might crawl
Round the brink:
He’d take one on the chin,
Split a cuppler teeth an’ grin,
An’ then ’e’d fight — an’ win —
Pie for Pink!

’Ard of chivvy, ’e was fair
Soft inside;
Ev’ry kid with ginger ’air
Was ’is pride.
One Christmas Eve — no kid —
’E slings a Gord-forbid
A dinkum ’arf-a-quid
’Cos it cried.

Church religion wasn’t much
Good to Pink;
’E earned ’e’s kids an’ Dutch
Food an’ drink.
An’ menny a zac ’e’s passed
To break a battler’s fast —
“Bellies first an’ Bibles last,”
Sed ole Pink.

W’en ’e joined I said to Pink,
“Wot’s the wheeze?
Are yer kiddin’ — is it drink
Or the cheese?”
“No,” ’e said, “but somethin’ came
An’ got me in the game,
An’ so I bogged me frame
Inter these.”

’E went tearin’ at the Turk,
Game an’ good;
’E got in some willin’ work
Like ’e would.
Wot ’e ’ad ter give ’e gave,
An’ in a foreign grave
’E’s sleepin’ like a brave
Soldier should!

Edwin Greenslade Murphy, Dryblower’s Verses, Perth, W.A.: E. G. Murphy, 1926, pages 81-82

Previously published (with some differences) in:
The Sunday Times (Perth, WA), 20 June 1915, p. 8

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