The Sentimental Bloke Writes His Own Advertisement For the World Premiere of his Talking Picture At Hoyts De Luxe Theatre Bourke Street At 8 p.m. Tonight

The world once 'ad me snouted.  Spare me days!
   Who could 'ave guessed I could 'ave rose to fame --
A 'umble bloke that mooched thro' umble ways
   'Iding me dilly 'ead in nervous shame
For fear the 'aughty world might 'and my style
                        A scornful smile.

Me name, as I've remarked somewhere before,
   Was mud.  I 'ad no 'ope, no aim in life,
No chance to rise an' shine or make a score;
   Then fate relents an' ands to me a wife.
So, 'avin' 'er, an' wot else forchin sent,
                        I was content.

That's all.  I wrote me simple story down
   In simple words for simple blokes to read;
I never 'ankered for no 'igh renown
  Or bunged me frame among the boostin' breed.
But, sudden, something 'appens, and I lobs
                        Among the snobs.

A torky 'ero!  Struttin' on the screen,
   All plastered over with publicity;
Puttin' the soft, sweet word on my Doreen
   Over again an' winnin' thro.  That's me,
Me?  Strike!  'Oo would 'a' thort one look, or kiss,
                        Would end like this?

Tonight's the night!  The greatest I have seen
   -- An', strike a light!  I dunno 'ow I feels --
To sit an' watch meself and my Doreen!
   I dunno if I'm on me 'ead or 'eels,
With lights an' 'oardin's shoutin' out me name.
                        Gorstrooth!  It's fame!

Aw, well.  I suppose I'll see it thro' some ways,
   An' when it's over, an' the shoutin' dies,
I'll go back 'ome an' dream thro' 'appy days
   With bird songs soundin' under bosker skies;
So, with full thanks for wot me cobbers did,
                        I dips me lid.

"The Sentimental Bloke"
Sun, 26 March 1932, p12