The following poem was written by Burma Railway P.O.W. Duncan Butler

M A T E S

I've travelled down some lonely roads,
Both crooked tracks and straight,
An' I've learned Life's noblest creed
Summed up in one word ...'Mate'.

I'm thinkin' back across the years,
(a thing I do of late)
An, this word sticks between me ears:
You've got to ‘ave a mate."

Someone who'll take you as you are,
Regardless of your state,
An' stand as firm as Ayer's Rock
Because 'e is your mate.

Me mind goes back to '43,
To slavery an' 'ate,
When man's one chance to stay
Depended on ‘is mate.

With bamboo for a billy-can
An' bamboo for a plate,
A bamboo paradise for bugs
Was bed for me and Mate.

You'd slip an' slither through the mud
An' curse your rotten fate;
But then you'd hear a quiet word:
'Don't drop your bundle, Mate'.

An' though it's all so long ago,
This truth I 'ave to state:
"A man don't know what 'lonely' means
'til 'e 'as lost 'is mate.

If there's a life that follers this,
If there's a 'Golden Gate',
The welcome that I want to 'ear
Is just: 'Good on y' mate'.

An' so to all who ask us why
We keep these special dates
Like Anzac Day, I answer: ‘Why?'
‘We're thinkin' of our mates.'

An' when I've left the driver's seat,
An' ‘anded in me plates,
I'll tell ol' Peter at the door:
'I've come to join me mates'