The Rise and Fall of a Modern "Knight Errant"

He was born in the light of a kerosene lamp,
In a shack on the edge of town-
His first rasping cries echoed out on the world
To be greeted by poverty's frown:
No riches, no glamour, no pathos to blend
In a welcome befitting a "knight"-
Just a mouth more to feed, - a slave ready made, -
Just the dawn of a life long fight.

His heritage reeked of the slave-trader's day, -
And 'twas tainted by parents despair -
He'd the heart of a lion, a body for work,
And a share in his country's fresh air!
No gilded-spoon baby, no mannon-fed sop,
Not born where luxury's rife;
He started with nothing, downtrodden, ignored -
To battle his way on through life.

His childhood was spent in the back streets of town,
His clothing was ragged and worn
No seat in his pants, no hat on his head,
And his feet as bare as when born.
But this freckle-faced urchin with leathery feet,
Was a man when it came to a test,
For his ragged young cobbers, his home and his kin,
His loyalty could not be assessed.

He was taken to school, and hopeful, alert,
He was taught to subtract and to add,
To read and to write, and also to learn
What a glorious history we'd had.
He read about profligates, millionaires, dukes,
Learned the history of bending the knee,
He heard of equality, blood-brotherhood,
Even read how they'd set the slaves free.

His democrat culture, his figuring trade,
Met with varied and checkered careers,
The demands on his time, his strength, and his courage
Increased hand in hand with his years.
His short time at school, - then out in the land,
With its Grab-All Monopolist works, -
Might well have been used, for all the chance that he had,
By a few years of physical jerks.

For years then he wallowed in poverty's mire,
Struggling to get on his feet;
Willing for work, yet oft unemployed
He was sneered at by social elite,
He worked at slave wages, relief work and such, -
A fair living wage was his goal; -
Yet the war when it came, found a man not the same,
But a bitter recruit of the Dole.

He had battled through life, unwanted, unsung,
'Till the moguls of mighty finance,
Had dabbled with Hitler, and got themselves then,
A political kick in the pants.
Then they clothed him and fed him and gave him a gun,
And a paltry few shillings a day, -
His first full-time job in a land of the free,
Found him lined up in battle array.

May fair dinkum cobbers he found by the score,
In his travels to far-distant lands:
And thousands like him had been starving before, -
Just puppets in pitiless hands;
To recount their courage, invincible will,
Mere language would never suffice -
In a bloody Gethsemene out on the sands,
He gave the supreme sacrifice.

In his death was all power, all honour, all glory,
His greatest possession he gave;
Yet his life had been blighted by want from his birth,
His status no more than a slave;
Yes his life had been wasted by the system in peace,
He'd arrived by the wrong entrance door,
Yet that same life was forfeit for freedom and such,
To the self-same system at war.

May his battled-scarred grave, inspire the slave,
To demand as a war-gotten gain,
The right to a birth untarnished by want,
Education bounded only by brain;
No rule can be just, no people be free,
'Till all men of his kin and his kind,
From birth have the right to the pleasures in life -
None mangled in Poverty's grind........