Poets'Corner

The Odyssey of 'Erbert 'Iggins

Me and Ed and a stretcher
Out on the nootral ground.
(If there's one dead corpse, I'll betcher
There's a 'undred smellin' around.)
Me and Eddie O'Brian,
Both of the R. A. M. C.
"It'as a 'ell of a night
For a soul to take flight,"
As Eddie remarks to me.
Me and Ed crawlin' 'omeward,
Thinkin' our job is done,
When sudden and clear,
Wot do we 'ear:
'Owl of a wounded 'Un.

"Got to take 'im," snaps Eddy;
"Got to take all we can.
'E may be a Germ
Wiv the 'eart of a worm,
But, blarst 'im! ain't 'e a man?
"So 'e sloshes out fixin' a dressin'
('E'd always a medical knack),
When that wounded 'Un
'E rolls to 'is gun,
And 'e plugs me pal in the back.

Now what would you do? I arst you.
There was me slaughtered mate.
There was that 'Un
(I'd collered 'is gun),
A-snarlin' 'is 'ymn of 'ate.
Wot did I do? 'Ere, whisper . . .
'E'd a shiny bald top to 'is 'ead,
But when I got through,
Between me and you,
It was 'orrid and jaggy and red.

"'Ang on like a limpet, Eddy.
Thank Gord! you ain't dead after all."
It's slow and it's sure and it's steady
(Which is 'ard, for 'e's big and I'm small).
The rockets are shootin' and shinin',
It's rainin' a perishin' flood,
The bullets are buzzin' and whinin',
And I'm up to me stern in the mud.
There's all kinds of 'owlin' and 'ootin';
It's black as a bucket of tar;
Oh, I'm doin' my bit,
But I'm 'avin' a fit,
And I wish I was 'ome wiv Mar.

"Stick on like a plaster, Eddy.
Old sport, you're a-slackin' your grip."
Gord! But I'm crocky already;
My feet, 'ow they slither and slip!
There goes the biff of a bullet.
The Boches have got us for fair.
Another one -- WHUT!
The son of a slut!
'E managed to miss by a 'air.
'Ow! Wot was it jabbed at me shoulder?
Gave it a dooce of a wrench.
Is it Eddy or me
Wot's a-bleedin' so free?
Crust! but it's long to the trench.
I ain't just as strong as a Sandow,
And Ed ain't a flapper by far;
I'm blamed if I understand 'ow
We've managed to get where we are.
But 'ere's for a bit of a breather.
"Steady there, Ed, 'arf a mo'.
Old pal, it's all right;
It's a 'ell of a fight,
But are we down-'earted? No-o-o."

Now war is a funny thing, ain't it?
It's the rummiest sort of a go.
For when it's most real,
It's then that you feel
You're a-watchin' a cinema show.
'Ere's me wot's a barber's assistant.
Hey, presto! It's somewheres in France,
And I'm 'ere in a pit
Where a coal-box 'as 'it,
And it's all like a giddy romance.
The ruddy quick-firers are spittin',
The 'eavies are bellowin' 'ate,
And 'ere I am cashooly sittin',
And 'oldin' the 'ead of me mate.
Them gharstly green star-shells is beamin',
'Ot shrapnel is poppin' like rain,
And I'm sayin': "Bert 'Iggins, you're dreamin',
And you'll wake up in 'Ampstead again.
You'll wake up and 'ear yourself sayin':
`Would you like, sir, to 'ave a shampoo?
''Stead of sheddin' yer blood
In the rain and the mud,
Which is some'ow the right thing to do;
Which is some'ow yer 'oary-eyed dooty,
Wot you're doin' the best wot you can,
For 'Ampstead and 'ome and beauty,
And you've been and you've slaughtered a man.
A feller wot punctured your partner;
Oh, you 'ammered 'im 'ard on the 'ead,
And you still see 'is eyes
Starin' bang at the skies,
And you ain't even sorry 'e's dead.
But you wish you was back in your diggin's
Asleep on your mouldy old stror.
Oh, you're doin' yer bit, 'Erbert 'Iggins,
But you ain't just enjoyin' the war."

"'Ang on like a hoctopus, Eddy.
It's us for the bomb-belt again.
Except for the shrap
Which 'as 'it me a tap,
I'm feelin' as right as the rain.
It's my silly old feet wot are slippin',
It's as dark as a 'ogs'ead o' sin,
But don't be oneasy, my pippin,
I'm goin' to pilot you in.
It's my silly old 'ead wot is reelin'.
The bullets is buzzin' like bees.
Me shoulder's red-'ot,
And I'm bleedin' a lot,
And me legs is on'inged at the knees.
But we're staggerin' nearer and nearer.
Just stick it, old sport, play the game.

I make 'em out clearer and clearer,
Our trenches a-snappin' with flame.
Oh, we're stumblin' closer and closer.
'Ang on there, lad! Just one more try.
Did you say: Put you down? Damn it, no, sir!
I'll carry you in if I die.
By cracky! old feller, they've seen us.
They're sendin' out stretchers for two.
Let's give 'em the hoorah between us
('Anged lucky we aren't booked through).
My flipper is mashed to a jelly.
A bullet 'as tickled your spleen.
We've shed lots of gore
And we're leakin' some more,
But -- wot a hoccasion it's been!
Ho! 'Ere comes the rescuin' party.
They're crawlin' out cautious and slow.
Come! Buck up and greet 'em, my 'earty,
Shoulder to shoulder -- so.
They mustn't think we was down-'earted.
Old pal, we was never down-'earted.
If they arsts us if we was down-'earted
We'll 'owl in their fyces: `No-o-o!'"

From Rhymes Of A Red Cross Man by Robert Service

Christmas Tree Still Standing?

THAT'S OK!!! Over at Wikipedia I found this: St. Knut's Day was a holiday celebrated in Sweden and Finland on January 13 (and not in Denmark although King Knut's origin could suggest it). King Knut, or more commonly, Canute IV of Denmark, who ruled Denmark from 1080 - 1086 and who claimed the throne of England, is honoured as a saint for his virtue and generosity. He declared that Christmas should be celebrated for twenty days, officially ending the season on 13 January. The days between Christmas and Saint Knut's Day are filled with celebrations. Christmas trees are taken down on St. Knut's Day, and the candies and cookies that decorated the tree are eaten.

Merry Christmas!

Weekend Steam

Click on photo to enlarge. An advertisement in an old American Thresherman magazine illustrates the advantages of return flue boilers. In addition to better efficiency than locomotive style boilers, the operator had the advantage of easier maintenance; and less skill and care was needed to stoke the fire in a return flue boiler. In locomotive style boilers the fire had to be maintained evenly over the grates to avoid cold spots. A dead spot in the fire would allow cold air to cool the flue sheet at the front of the firebox, resulting in leaks around the end of the flues. Someone would then have to crawl into the firebox to roll the flues, which is not easy when working in the confined space of the firebox. The engine had to be pretty well cooled before anyone could go into the firebox, so this meant downtime.

The flues on a return flue boiler could be accessed easily if they leaked, and causing a leak by sloppy firing technique was much less likely. There are also fewer parts to fail in return flue boilers. In spite of the advantages of the return flue system, locomotive style boilers were much more popular on traction engines; the most common reason cited is that the operator did not have the smoke stack in his face radiating heat and exhaust noise. I think that is probably correct, although some early return flue engines had a bad record of exploding due to poor design. This surely influenced both builders and customers.

Stories written by the men who ran traction engines often break into discussions of the ease or difficulty of maintaining steam while working an engine. I have read many stories in old steam magazines and have never seen any negative comments on firing a return flue engine.

Compare the complexity of this locomotive style boiler to the return flue Huber in the advertisement above.

Crankin' It Up

Before there was a Superman, before there was a Batman, we had Barney (Not The Dinosaur)Google.

Cutting a Lodged Tree

Trees often lodge in other trees, and it is good to know how to deal with them. We had a dead black oak in our woods that blew over into another tree, so we worked on taking it down for this new video. The Mrs. served as official photographer, and we made three cuts before we gave up. One more cut on this tree would probably have made the top fall back on me, so we quit while we were ahead. We may go back with a come-along to pull the butt end out at a later date. We made firewood out of the pieces we took out of this tree, and nobody got hurt, so it was a good afternoon. Note that we are using the open face and bore cuts to make a hinge in order to control the folding down of the tree. The video shows the first two cuts; the third one was more of the same. Be sure to examine the still shot of the cross section at the end of the video. I wish all of my stumps looked this good.





UPDATE!!!! For a faster, easier method, watch this video.  Dope out the tree and work on the safe side.  Step back as soon as the tree moves and move away so you don't get hit with flying debris.


And...Even more long, lodged tree goodness in this vid!

Just be sure to figue out which way the top is going to roll when it finally falls so you can be out of the way.

Poets' Corner

Towser Shall Be Tied Tonight

Slow the Kansas sun was setting o'er the wheat fields far away,

Streaking all the air with cobwebs, at the close of one hot day;

And its last rays kissed the foreheads of a man and maiden fair,

He with whiskers short and frowzy, she with red and glistening hair;

He with jaws shut stern and silent, she with lips all cold and white,

Struggled to keep back the murmur, “Towser must be tied tonight.”

“Papa,”slowly spoke the maiden, “I am almost seventeen,

And I've got a real lover, though he's rather young and green;

But he has a horse and buggy, and a cow and thirty hens,

Boys that start out poor, dear Papa, make the best of honest men;

But if Towser sees and bites him, fills his heart with sudden fright,

He will never come again, Pa: Towser must be tied tonight.”

“Daughter,” firmly spoke the farmer (every word pierced her young heart

Like a carving knife through chicken, as it hunts a tender part),

“I've a patch of early melons, two of them are ripe today,

Towser must be loose to watch them, or they'll all be stole away.

I have hoed them late and early, (in dim morn and evening light)

Now they're grown I must not lose them. Towser won't be tied tonight.”

Then the old man ambled forward, opened wide the kennel door;

Towser bounded forth to meet him, as he oft had done before.

And the farmer stooped and loosed him from the dog chain short and stout;

To himself be softly chuckled: "Bessie's fellow must look out.

"But the maiden at the window saw the cruel teeth show white;

In an undertone she murmured, “Towser must be tied tonight.”

Then the maiden's brow grew thoughtful, and her breath came short and thick,

Till she spied the family clothesline, and she whispered, “That's the trick.”

From the kitchen door she glided with a plate of meat and bread;

Towser wagged his tail in greeting, knowing well he would be fed.

In his well-worn leather collar tied she then held the clothesline tight,

All the time her white lips saying: “Towser must be tied tonight.”

“There, old doggie,” spoke the maiden. “You can watch the melon patch,

But the front gate's free and open when John Henry lifts the latch,

For the clothesline tight is fastened to the harvest-apple tree.

You can run and watch the melons, but the front gate you can't see.”

Then her glad ears heard a buggy, and her eyes grew big and bright,

While her young heart said in gladness: “Towser, dog, is tied tonight.”

Up the patch the young man saunters, with his eye and cheek aglow,

For he loves the red-haired maiden, and he aims to tell her so.

Bessie's roguish little brothers, in a fit of boyish glee,

Had untied the slender clothesline from the harvest-apple tree;

Then old Towser heard the footsteps, raised his bristle, fixed for fight.

“ Bark away,” the maiden whispers. “Towser, you are tied tonight.”

Then old Towser bounded forward, past the open kitchen door;

Bessie screamed and quickly followed, but John Henry's gone before.

Down the path he speeds most quickly, for old Towser sets the pace,

And the maiden, close behind them, shows them she is in the race.

Then the clothesline-can she get it? And her eyes grow big and bright,

As she springs and grasps it firmly. “Towser shall be tied tonight.”

Oftentimes a little minute forms the destiny of men.

You can change the fate of nations by the stroke of one small pen.

Towser made one last long effort, caught John Henry by his pants,

But John Henry kept on running, for he thought that his last chance;

But the maiden held on firmly, and the rope was drawn up tight;

But old Towser kept the garments, for he was not tied tonight.

Then the old man hears the racket, with long stride he soon is there,

While John Henry and the maiden, crouching, for the worst prepare.

At his feet John tells his story, shows his clothing soiled and torn;

And his face, so sad and pleading, yet so white and scared and worn,

Touched the old man's heart with pity, filled his eyes with misty light,

“ Take her, boy, and make her happy. Towser shall be tied tonight.”

-Unknown: A parody on Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight

Crankin' It Up; Side B Bonus

Weekend Steam

On the cover of The American Thresherman and Farm Power, June 1922, we see an interesting threshing scene. The straw is being blown directly into a barn, a common practice in the good old days. Wind stackers were an important advancement in technology over the web (conveyor) stackers, but they did require larger engines with more horsepower.

The engine appears to be an Advance. Please leave a comment if you can make a better identification. The water source must have been nearby, because water is being transported to the engine in milk cans instead of a water wagon. I think the farmer's kids had a good workout as waterboys.

Crankin' It Up

Tonight's selection is a delightful love song from the musical comedy No No Nanette, which was on Broadway in 1925. This song comes across young and fresh in spite of being over 80. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Maine Two Footers

Near the top of my list of places I want to go to is the W. W. & F Railway Museum in Alna, Maine. Peruse their website: http://www.wwfry.org/, and watch the following video, and you will want to go, too. Once you bring up the video, be sure to watch the related ones from this railroad. Great sounds and great winter scenery.