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An' there isn't any soldier but what sometimes hates his work When the dress parade is over, an' perhaps he'd like to shirk, But he's there to follow orders, not to pick an' choose his post, An' he sometimes shines the finest at the job he hates the most.
Let's be soldiers in the struggle, let's be loyal through and through; Life is going to give us duties that perhaps we'll hate to do. There'll be little sacrifices that we will not like to make, There'll be many tasks unpleasant that will fall to us to take. An' although we all would rather do the work that brings applause, Let's forget our whims and fancies an' just labor for the cause.
The Alarm
Get off your downy cots of ease,?There's work that must be done.?Great danger's riding on the seas.?The storm is coming on.?Don't think that it will quickly pass.?Who smiles at distant fate,?And waits until it strikes, alas!?Has roused himself too late.
Who thinks the fight will end before?The need of him arrives,?Is lengthening this brutal war?And costing many lives.?For over us that storm shall break?Ere many weeks have fled,?And we shall pay for our mistake?In fields of mangled dead.
Be ready when the foe shall near,?Be there to strike him hard;?Let us, though he be miles from here,?Be standing now on guard.?To-morrow's victories won't be won?By pluck that we display?To-morrow when the foe comes on,?But by our work to-day.
The Boy Enlists
His mother's eyes are saddened, and her cheeks
are stained with tears,?And I'm facing now the struggle that I've
dreaded through the years;?For the boy that was our baby has been changed
into a man.?He's enlisted in the army as a true American.
He held her for a moment in his arms before
he spoke,?And I watched him as he kissed her, and it
seemed to me I'd choke,?For I knew just what was coming, and I knew
just what he'd done!?'Another little mother had a soldier for a son.
When we'd pulled ourselves together, and the
first quick tears had dried,?We could see his eyes were blazing with the fire
of manly pride;?We could see his head was higher than it ever
was before,?For we had a man to cherish, and our baby was
no more.
Oh, I don't know how to say it! With the sorrow
comes the joy?That there isn't any coward in the make-up of
our boy.?And with pride our hearts are swelling, though
with grief they're also hit,?For the boy that was our baby has stepped
forth to do his bit,
The Mother Faith
Little mother, life's adventure calls your boy away,?Yet he will return to you on some brighter day;?Dry your tears and cease to sigh, keep your mother smile, Brave and strong he will come back in a little while.
Little mother, heed them not--they who preach despair-- You shall have your boy again, brave and oh, so fair!?Life has need of him to-day, but with victory won,?Safely life shall bring to you once again your son.
Little mother, keep the faith: not to death he goes;?Share with him the joy of worth that your soldier knows. He is giving to the Flag all that man can give,?And if you believe he will, surely he will live.
Little mother, through the night of his absence long,?Never cease to think of him--brave and well and strong; You shall know his kiss again, you shall see his smile, For your boy shall come to you in a little while.
Thoughts of a Soldier
Since men with life must purchase life?And some must die that more may live,?Unto the Great Cashier of strife?A fine accounting let me give.?Perhaps to-morrow I shall stand?Before his cage, prepared to buy?New splendor for my native land:?Oh, God, then bravely let me die!
If after I shall fall, shall rise?A fairer land than I have known,?I shall not grudge my sacrifice,?Although I pay the price alone.?If still more beautiful to see?The Stars and Stripes o'er men shall wave?And finer shall my country be,?To-morrow let me find my grave.
To-night life seems so fair and sweet,?Yet tyranny is stalking here,?And hate and lust and foul deceit?Hang heavy on the atmosphere.?Injustice seeks to throttle right,?And laughter's stifled to a sigh.?If death can take so great a blight?From human lives, then let me die.
If death must be the cost of life,?And freedom's terms are human souls,?Into the thickest of the strife?Then let me go to pay the tolls.?I would enrich my native land,?New splendor to her flag I'd give,?If where I fall shall freedom stand,?And where I die shall freedom live.
To-morrow death with me may trade;?Let me not quibble o'er the price;?But may I, once the bargain's made,?With courage meet the sacrifice.?If happiness for ages long?My little term of life can buy,?God, for my country make me strong;?To-morrow let me bravely die.
The Flag on the Farm
We've raised a flagpole on the farm?And flung Old Glory to the sky,?And it's another touch of charm?That