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must be no little dreaming in the visions that we see, There must
be no selfish planning in the joys that are to be; 'We have set our faces
eastwards to the rising of the sun That shall light a better nation, and
there's big work to be done. And the petty souls and narrow, seeking
only selfish gain, Shall be vanquished by the toilers big enough to
suffer pain.
It's a big task we have taken; 'tis for others we must fight. We must see
our duty clearly in a white and shining light; We must quit our little
circles where we've moved in little ways, And work, as men and
women, for the bigger, better days. We must quit our selfish thinking
and our narrow views and creeds. And as people, big and splendid, we
must do the bigger deeds.
The Wrist Watch Man
He is marching dusty highways and he's riding bitter trails, His eyes are
clear and shining and his muscles hard as nails. He is wearing Yankee
khaki and a healthy coat of tan,
And the chap that we are backing is
the Wrist Watch Man.
He's no parlor dude, a-prancing, he's no puny pacifist, And it's not for
affectation there's a watch upon his wrist. He's a fine two-fisted
scrapper, he is pure American,
And the backbone of the nation is the
Wrist Watch Man.
He is marching with a rifle, he is digging in a trench, He is swapping
English phrases with a poilu for his French; You will find him in the
navy doing anything he can,
For at every post of duty is the Wrist
Watch Man.

Oh, the time was that we chuckled at the soft and flabby chap Who
wore a little wrist watch that was fastened with a strap. But the
chuckles all have vanished, and with glory now we scan The courage
and the splendor of the Wrist Watch Man.
He is not the man we laughed at, not the one who won our jeers, He's
the man that we are proud of, he's the man that owns our cheers; He's
the finest of the finest, he's the bravest of the clan, And I pray for God's
protection for our Wrist Watch Man.
Follow the Flag
Aye, we will follow the Flag
Wherever she goes,
Into the tropic sun,

Into the northern snows;
Go where the guns ring out
Scattering
steel and lead,
Painting the hills with blood,
Strewing the fields
with dead.
But in each heart must be,
And back of each bitter gun,

Love for the best in life
After the fighting's done.
Aye, we will follow the Flag
Into benighted lands,
Brave in the
faith for which,
Proudly, our banner stands.
Life for her life we'll
pay,
Blood for her blood we'll give,
Fighting, but not to kill,
Save
that the best shall live.
But, when the cannon's roar
Dies in a hymn
of peace,
Justice and truth must reign,
Power of the brute must
cease.
Aye, we will follow the Flag,
Gladly her work we'll do,
Banishing
wrongs of old,
Founding the truth anew.
What though our guns
must speak,
What though brave men must die,
Ages of truth to
come
All this shall justify.
Men in the charms of peace,
Basking
in Freedom's sun,
Some day shall bless our Flag
After our work is
done.
Aye, we will follow the Flag
Wherever she goes,
Into the tropic sun,

Into the northern snows.
Fearlessly, on we'll go

Into the cruel
strife,
Gladly the few shall die,
Winning for many, life.
Tyranny's

wrongs must cease,
Brutes must no longer brag,
This is our work on
earth,
So we will follow the Flag.
We've Had a Letter From the Boy
We've had a letter from the boy,
And oh, the gladness and the joy
It
brought to us! We read it o'er
I'd say a dozen times or more.
We
laughed until the teardrops fell
At all the fun he had to tell.
He's in
the navy, wearing blue,
And everything is all so new
That he can
see in youthful style
The funny things to make us smile.
He's working hard! Between the lines
We gather that. The brass he
shines
Without complaining, and the food
He gets to eat is very
crude.
And yet he laughs at all his chores.
He says the maid who
scrubs our floors
Will have to quit when he returns
Unless a better
way she learns.
"I've got it on the fairer sex,"
Says he, "since I am
swabbing decks."
"A sailor's life, dear Mom," writes he,
"Is not the life you picked for
me.
And yet I'm getting fat and strong
And learning as I go along

That any life a man can find
Is apt to grow to be a grind
Unless a
fellow has the wit
To see the brighter side of it.
Don't worry for
your sailor son;
He sleeps well when his work is done."
We've had a letter from the boy,
And oh, the gladness and the joy
It
brought to us! 'Twas good to know
That he is facing duty so.

Between the lines that he had penned
His mother's bitter fears to end,

I saw his manhood glowing bright,
And now I know