The pack packed away

Dundee People’s Journal, Saturday 03 March 1917

No more nap and no more nips.

[Every Saturday afternoon sees the allotment holders busy breaking the sod of their newly acquired land.]

Spade, Spade, Spade,
I see you all the day;
You’re digging in my weary mind
The weedy earth away.
You’re mindin’ me that I’ve to work
For hours on Saturday.
No loafin’ on the streets for you
Is what you seem to say.

Club, Club, Club,
My hours with you are few.
No more I’ll take a hand at nap
Or drink a drink or two,
Nor play a game of snooker
Or put chalk upon a cue—
My conscience keeps on telling me 
There’s other work to do.

Heart, Heart, Heart, 
I know I try you sore
By forcing you to pant and puff
At work you don’t adore.
But please don’t swear you’ll never work 
Again when war is o’er.
Just think of me and where I’d be 
If you should beat no more.

Diamond, Diamond, Diamond.
They say that you are found
Far down below the surface
Of the “hard as iron” ground,
But there are none of your kind
In allotments, I’ll be bound., 
Unless they are the spuds which sell
At three halfpence a pound.

Jonathan Brown.