D. Hunter

A veteran of Shaggy Ridge with the 2/12 Battalion in WW2


I saw a kid marchin’ with medals on his chest
He marched alongside diggers marching six abreast,
He knew that it was ANZAC day – he walked along with pride
He did his best to keep in step with the diggers by his side.

And when the march was over the kid was rather tired.
A digger said “Whose medals son?” to which the kid replied,
“They belong to Daddy, but he did not come back.
He died up in New Guinea on a lonely jungle track”.

The Kid looked rather sad, and then a tear came to his eye.
The digger said, “Don’t cry my son, and I will tell you why.
Your Daddy marched with us today – all the blooming way.
We diggers know that he was there – it’s like that on ANZAC day”.

The kid looked rather puzzled, and didn’t understand
But the digger went on talking, and started to wave his hand.
“For this great land we live in, there’s a price we have to pay,
and for this thing called freedom, the diggers had to pay.”

“For we all love fun and merriment, in this country where we live,
the price was that some soldier, his precious life must give.
For you to go to school my lad and worship God at will,
Someone had to pay the price, so the diggers paid the bill”.

“Your daddy died for us my son – for all the things good and true.
I wonder if you can understand the things I’ve said to you”.
The kid looked up at the digger – just for a little while,
And with a changed expression, said, with a lovely smile:

“I know my daddy marched here today – this our ANZAC day,
I know he did – I know he did – All the blooming way…”