MEN OF THE HOSPITAL CORPS
They, too, have heard the drum-beat,
They follow the bugle's call,
Those who are swift with pity
On the field where brave men fall.
When the battle boom is silent
And the echoing thunder dies,
They haste to the plain, red sodden
With the blood of sacrifice.
The flag that floats above them
Is marked with a crimson sign,
Pledge of a great compassion
And the rifted heart divine.
And so they follow the bugle
And heed the drumbeat's call,
But their errand is one of pity:--
They succor the men who fall.
GARRISON LIFE
I want to go home, wailed the private,
The sergeant and corporal the same,
For I'm tired of the camp and the hikin',
The grub and the rest of the game.
I'm willing to do all the fightin',
For that is a game two can play;
But I want to go home, for me goil's all alone,
An' I want to go home to-day.
For I've marched 'til me throat was a-crackin',
'Til crazed for the want of a drink,
I've drilled 'til me back was a-breakin',
An' I haven't had time to think.
And I've had me share of policin',
And guard and I'm tired of me lay;
For me goil's all alone, an' I want to go home,
An' I want to go home to-day.
Do they heed us a-dying in garrison life?
They say it's the water and such,
We think that more apt it's the hikin',
For the life of a private ain't much;
But we know we can fight if we have to,
And they won't have to show us the way,
But me goil's all alone, an' I want to go home,
An' I want to go home to-day.
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