The spuds is rotten and the slum
Is always worse than on the bum.
The coffee is too strong.
That cow was killed ten years before
They organized this bloomin' war;
These flapjacks taste like wood."
And so he growls through all the day,
And fills his comrades with dismay;
They'd kill him if they could.
When "First Call" wakes up Billy Lott,
He sits upon his Army cot,
And whistles "Casey Jones,"
And as he jumps into his shoes,
He says, "By Jinks I've had a snooze
That's good for skin and bones."
And Billy always has a smile
That you can see for half a mile,
And when he stops to say, 'How Do!'
He chases dimples to your cheeks
That stay there for a couple of weeks,
And he makes you happy too.
WEANING TIME
(To A. W. D.)
Mothers, O, ye mothers of the land!
With broods of sisters, brothers--hand in hand--
'Tis weaning time. Clip ye the thread
That apron-strings the lad! Give him his head!
Pluck from your teat the clinging lip
That should be tight with valor's grip!
"You were my child-in-arms," she said;
"Suckled I you, and gave you bed;
But now you are my man, my son.
For battle lost or battle won,
Go, find your captain; take your gun,
To stand with France against the Hun!
Reck not that tears might wet your crib;
Nor fear my fondling of the bib
You wore--when you are gone.
Your mother will not be alone;
Her love-mate will be Duty Done:
Her nights will kiss that midnight sun.
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