Analysis of How Herman Won The Cross

Edward George Dyson 1865 (Ballarat, Victoria) – 1931 (Saint Kilda, Melbourne, Victoria)



Once in a blue eternity they gave us
dabs of rum
To close the seams 'n' keep the flume in
liquor-tight condition;
But, soft 'n' sentimental, when the long, cold
evenin's come,
I'd dream me nibs was dronking' to the height
of his ambition,
With rights of suction over all the breweries
there are,
Where barrels squat, like Brahma gods, in
Mother Hardy's bar.

I had me fit of longin' on the night the Ger-
mans came,
All breathin' lioke a gas attack. The air
was halcholic.
We smelt 'em in the darkness, 'n' our rage
went up in flame.
It was envy, squealin' envy, put the ginger
in the frolic.
We shot 'em full of spelter, then went over it
to spite
The swines what drunk the liquor that was
ours by common right.

“If this ain't stopped, 'n' quick,” sez we,
“there won't be left a drop
To celebrate the vict'ry when we capture
their position.”
I'm prowlin' blind, when sharp there comes a
fond, familiar plop-
Swung round a post, a German in a pitiful
condition
Looms over me. He's sprung a cork, and
shales a flask on high,
'N' sings of beer that touchin' it would make
a butcher cry.

Sez he: “Berloffed kamarid, you haf some
drinks mit you.”
I meant to spike him where he waved,
but altered me intention.
'N' “If you put it thus,” sez I, “I don't
care if I do.”
We had a drink together. There's a tem-
por'y suspension
Of hostilities to sample contraband 'n' other
stuff
In the enemy's possession. Which I think
he's had enough.

That Hun had thirty pockets, 'n' he'd stowed
a flask in each,
'N' presently I'm thinkin' I could love him
like a brother.
He's talkin' fond 'n' friendly in outlandish
parts of speech.
“You're prisoner of war,” I sez; 'n' then
we had another.
Ten flasks he pours into his hat, 'n' fills it
to the brim,
'N' weeps 'n' sez his frau she will be waitin'
up for him.

We drink each other's health, 'n' know no
henmity nor fear.
I see I've got to pinch him, but he's out to
do his div. in,
'N' don't care if he don't go home till day-
light doth appear.
Sez he: “I pud you home to bed upside dot
'ouse you live in.”
He shakes his finger in me eye: “Mein friendt,
you're preddy trunk!”
Then arm in arm through No Man's land we
does a social bunk.

There's Fear afoot. Comes more than once
the glug of sudden death.
We're rockin' fine 'n' careless where the
rifle fire is breakin',
'N' singin' most uproar'ous, in the bomb's
disgustin' breath,
Of girls, 'n' drink, 'n' cheerful sprees, 'n'
'Herman thinks he's takin'
A cobber home to somewhere in an subbub
damp 'n' dim,
Whereas I know fer certain it is me is takin'
him.

Somehow, sometime, I lands him where he's
safely put to bed.
I wake nex' day, 'n' holy smoke! I'm pri-
soner with the German.
Me mouth is like an ashpan, there's hot fish-
bolts in me head,
'N' through the barb-wire peerin' is me
foreigh cobber 'Erman.
“Ve capdure each lasd nighd,” sez he “you
home haf bring me, boss.”
For bravery in takin' me, he got the Iron
Cross!


Scheme XABCDAECFGBG GHXIXHJIKEXE LMJCNMXCXOIO APXCXPACJQIQ XRSJTRUJKSBS XVPBXVXBDILI XWNBXWUBXSBS FXOCTXLCPXXX
Poetic Form
Metre 10010100111 111 110111010 101010 1110101011 11 111111101 11010 111101010100 11 11011110 10101 11111110101 11 111010101 11 11100101101 1101 11101101010 0010 11111111101 11 011101011 101101 11111111 111101 110011110 1010 11111110 10101 110101000100 010 110111010 10111 111111111 0101 1111111 11111 11111111 1101010 1111111111 1111 1101010101 11010 1010011010110 1 00100010111 1101 1111010111 0101 11001101111 1010 11011100010 111 1100111111 11010 11110111111 101 1111111111 111 111101111 111 11111111111 1110 1111111111 1101 11111111111 1110 1111001111 1101 110111111 10101 11011111 011101 11111010 101011 1111001 11 111111011 10111 01111011 111 011111011111 1 1111111 10111 1111110111 11010 111111111 1011 110110111 1110 11111111 11111 110001111010 1
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 2,957
Words 564
Sentences 35
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 12, 12, 12, 12, 12, 12, 12, 12
Lines Amount 96
Letters per line (avg) 22
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 267
Words per stanza (avg) 69
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 14, 2023

2:58 min read
47

Edward George Dyson

Edward George Dyson, or 'Ted' Dyson, was an Australian journalist, poet, playwright and short story writer. He was the elder brother of illustrators Will Dyson (1880–1938) and Ambrose Dyson (1876–1913), with three sisters also of artistic and literary praise. Dyson wrote under several – some say many – nom-de-plumes, including Silas Snell. In his day, the period of Australia's federation, the poet and writer was 'ranked very closely to Australia's greatest short-story writer, Henry Lawson'. With Lawson known as the 'swagman poet', Ogilvie the 'horseman poet', Dyson was the 'mining poet'. Although known as a freelance writer, he was also considered part of The Bulletin writer group. more…

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