Hello, Boys!

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hello, Boys!, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(#11 in our series by Ella Wheeler Wilcox)
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Title: Hello, Boys!
Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6666]
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one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on January 10,
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Edition: 10
Language: English
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0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HELLO,
BOYS! ***
Transcribed from the 1919 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price,
email [email protected]

HELLO, BOYS!
Contents:
Forward
Thanksgiving
The Brave Highland Laddies
Men of the
Sea
Ode to the British Fleet
The German Fleet
Deep unto deep
was calling
The Song of the Allies
Ten thousand men a day

"America will not turn back"
War
The Hour
The Message

"Flowers of France"
Our Atlas
Camp Followers
Come Back
Clean
Camouflage
The Awakening
The Khaki Boys who were
not at the Front
Time's Hymn of Hate
Dear Motherland of France

The Spirit of Great Joan
Speak
The Girl of the U.S.A.
Passing the
Buck
Song of the Aviator
The Stevedores
A Song of Home
The
Swan of Dijon
Veils
In France I saw a Hill
American Boys, Hello!

De Rochambeau
After
The Blasphemy of Guns
The Crimes of
Peace
It May Be
Then and Now
Widows
Conversation
I, too

He that hath ears
Answers
How is it?

'Let us give thanks'
The
Black Sheep
One by one
Prayer
Be not Dismayed
Ascension

The Deadliest Sin
The Rainbow of Promise
They shall not win
FORWARD
The greater part of these verses dealing with the war were written in
France during my recent seven months' sojourn there, and for the
purpose of using in entertainments given in camps and hospitals to
thousands of American soldiers.
They were the result of coming into close contact with the soldiers'
mind and heart, and were intentionally expressed in the simplest
manner, without any consideration of methods approved by modern
critics. The fact that I have been asked to autograph scores of copies of

many of these verses (and one of them to the extent of 350 copies) is
more gratifying to me than would be the highest encomiums of the
purely literary critic.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
London,
October 1918.
THANKSGIVING
Thanksgiving for the strong armed day,
That lifted war's red curse,

When Peace, that lordly little word,
Was uttered in a voice that stirred
-
Yea, shook the Universe.
Thanksgiving for the Mighty Hour
That brimmed the Victor's cup,

When England signalled to the foe,
'The German flag must be
brought low
And not again hauled up!'
Thanksgiving for the sea and air
Free from the Devil's might!

Thanksgiving that the human race
Can lift once more a rev'rent face,

And say, 'God helps the Right.'
Thanksgiving for our men who came
In Heaven-protected ships,

The waning tide of hope to swell,
With 'Lusitania' and 'Cavell'
As
watchwords on their lips.
Thanksgiving that our splendid dead,
All radiant with youth,
Dwell
near to us--there is no death.
Thanksgiving for the broad new faith

That helps us know this truth.
THE BRAVE HIGHLAND LADDIES
I had seen our splendid soldiers in their khaki uniforms,
And their leaders with a Sam Brown belt;
I had seen the fighting
Britons and Colonials in swarms,
I had seen the blue-clad Frenchmen, and I felt
That the mighty

martial show
Had no new sight to bestow,
Till I walked on Piccadilly, and my word!
By the bonnie Highland
laddies
In their kilts and their plaidies,
To a wholly new sensation I was stirred.
They were like some old-time picture, or a scene from out a play,
They were stalwart, they were young, and debonnair;
Their jaunty
little caps they wore in such a fetching way,
And they showed their handsome legs, and didn't care -
And they
seemed to own the town
As they strode on up and down -
Oh, they surely were a sight for tired eyes!
Those braw, bonnie
laddies
In their kilts and their plaidies,
And I stared at them with pleasure and surprise.
I had read about the valour of old Scotland's warrior sons -
How they fought to a finish, or else fell;
I had heard the name
bestowed on them by agitated Huns,
Who called these skirted soldiers 'Dames of Hell';
And I gave them
right of way
On their London holiday,
As I met them swinging down the street and Strand,
Those bonnie,
bonnie laddies
In their kilts and their plaidies,
And I breathed a blessing