"Hello! that's the whistle, be moving. 
   Wake up! don't be muttering there. 
What language! your style is improving - 
   It's pleasant to hear you at prayer. 
Turn out, doff the rug, slide from under - 
   Crib's cut, and the tea's on the brew; 
It's raining and storming like thunder, 
   For that was the half-hour that blew." 


"Half-past! and the night's simply awful, 
   The hut fairly shakes in the storm. 
Hang night-shifts! They shouldn't be lawful; 
   I've only had time to get warm. 
I notice the hut's rarely bright, and 
   The bunk's always cold as a stone, 
Except when I go on at night, and 
   The half-after whistles have blown. 


"You built up that fire just to nark me; 
   You ain't got a heart, swelp me bob!
Two pins and I'd throw over Markby,
   And let him be blown with his job. 
Heigh-ho! What's that - who's a croaker? 
   You're all mighty good on the flute - 
I'll knock half the bark off the joker 
   Who's emptied tea=leaves in my boot! 


"Great Caesar! you roasted the water, 
   Whoever it was made the tea; 
It's hotter than Hades.  Well, you oughter! 
   Fried bacon again. Not for me! 
Good night, and be darned!  Stir up, Stumpy, 
   You look very happy and warm; 
I'll hoist half the bark off the humpy 
   And give you a taste of the storm." 


We laughed as he went away, growling. 
   Down where the wind whipped the creek, 
The storm like old fury was howling, 
   And Fred was on top for the week. 
"A devil's own night for the braceman," 
   Muttered Con. "It's a comfort to know 
All weathers are one to the face man, 
   All shifts are alike down below." 


We slept, and the flames flickered dimming, 
   The embers a ruddy light shed, 
When they came, stepping softly, and grimly 
   Laid Martin again on his bed. 
His fair hair was dark now and gory,
   The death-veil was grey on his face. 
They whispered and told us the story, 
   'Twas short - he was blown from the brace. 

"Edward Dyson"
The Bulletin, 16 July 1892, p11

Note:
This poem was published in slightly different form in Dyson's poetry collection Rhymes From the Mines and Other Lines.