Rhymes of the Rookies

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Title: Rhymes of the Rookies
Author: W. E. Christian
Release Date: October 27, 2004 [eBook #13886]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHYMES OF THE ROOKIES***
E-text prepared by Al Haines
RHYMES OF THE ROOKIES
Sunny Side of Soldier Service
by
W. E. CHRISTIAN
1917
To the Colors
Here's to the Red of the Firing Line;?Here's to a World White-Free;?Here's to the Blue of the Yankee Sign;?Here's to Liberty!
--W. E. C
To
THEODORE ROOSEVELT?Colonel of the Rough Riders
Who, more than any other one man?gives out?The Spirit and the Meaning?of the?AMERICAN SOLDIER
CONTENTS
MY BUNKIE?OUR OFFICERS?PAY DAY?THE ARMY GROUCH?WEANING TIME?"HANDS ACROSS THE SEA"?THE HIKE?A-B-C OF ARMY LIFE?A SOLDIER'S PRIMER?THE TALE AND WAIL OF A ROOKIE?A MARINE'S HYMN?HERE'S TO THE SIXTEENTH?HIKING IN THE PHILIPPINES?THE MOUNTAIN BATTERY SONG?THE CAVALRY SONG?THE RED GUIDON?THE CONSCRIPT?THE SLACKER?PREPAREDNESS?"BEANS"?ADVICE?THE SCENT OF THE COCOA?MEN OF THE HOSPITAL CORPS?GARRISON LIFE?THE PHILIPPINITIS?THE EAST IS A-CALLING?TELL YOUR TROUBLES TO THE CORPORAL OF THE GUARD?GENERAL ORDERS OF THE KITCHEN POLICE?IS HE A SOREHEAD??FUNSTON?YEAR 2016 IN CHIHUAHUA?WITH PERSHING IN MEXICO?OLD BALDY?"KAISER BILL"?THE RAW RECRUIT?SERVING IN TEXAS?O'REILLY'S GONE TO HELL?ON THE "BORDER"?ROUTINE?THE UNIFORM?IN THE COLD GRAY DAWN OF THE MORNING AFTER?THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POSTER?ARMY FEVER?ONE TO THE ARMY BEAN?LITTLE THINGS?SING-A-SONG-A-SIXPENCE?QUEEN OF MAY?A YOUNG ROOKIE'S LAMENT?DANNY DEEVER BALLAD?PUZZY LAPPINS?A CYNIC'S VIEW OF ARMY LIFE?THE SONG OF THE SHOVEL AND THE PICK
ARMY SLANG?ENGLISH ARMY SLANG?WORDS TO THE ARMY TRUMPET CALLS?FIRST AID IN CASE OF ACCIDENTS?FRENCH MONEY?ENGLISH MONEY
MY BUNKIE
He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan,?He'd surely come under society's ban,?He's a swearin', fightin' cavalryman,?But--he's my bunkie.
He's weathered the winds of the Western waste.?(You, gentle Christian, would call him debased)?And he's loved at his ease and married in haste,?Has my bunkie.
In a Philippine paddy he's slept in the rain,?When he's drunk rotten booze that drives you insane,?And he's often court-martialed--yes, over again,?Is my bunkie.
He's been on the booze the whole blooming night,?To mount guard next morning most awfully tight,?Though he's "dressed" like a soldier when given "Guide Right," He's my bunkie.
He doesn't know Browning or Ibsen or Keats,?But he knows mighty well when the other man cheats?And he licks him and makes him the laugh of the streets,?Does my bunkie.
He stands by and cheers when I'm having fun,?And when it is over says, "Pretty well done,"?But he takes a large hand if they rush two to one,?For--he's my bunkie.
When Taps has blown and all the troop is asleep,?We nudge each other and gingerly creep,?To where the shadows hang heavy and deep,?I and my bunkie.
And then when the fire-flies flittering roam,?We sit close together out there in the gloam,?And talk about things appertaining to home,?I and my bunkie.
If the slow tropic fever is a-shaking my spine,?And they blow "boots and saddles" to chase the brown swine, He'll give me a leg-up and ride me in line,?Will my bunkie.
And if I get hit--his arm goes around,?And raises me tenderly off of the ground,?And the words on his lips are a comforting sound,?The words of my bunkie.
OUR OFFICERS
I'm goin' to be discharged, sir;?My time is near its close,?I want to tell you, cap'en,?You're the best the country grows.?They ain't no man in all the world?Can beat the army man,?That wears the shiny leggins and?That does the best he can.
I've seen them, sir, in battle?With the bullets flyin' round,?I've seen them lying wounded?With the blood-stains on the ground.?I've watched them when the fever?Was a-ragin' in the camp,?I've seen them nurse the cholera--?A-wrestling with the cramp.
I've seen them pin to that ol' flag?Another glory more,?That made the stripes look brighter?Than they ever did before.?They weren't winning V.C.'s, either,?But because the country said?For them to go, they went.?They done it or they're dead.
We've lots of men of this kind an'?Of course, we've some that ain't,?We'll cover up their faces?In the picture that we paint.?I'll follow men like you, sir;?You can't go too fast an' far,?You're officers and gentlemen?Like Congress says you are.
I wish I could re-up, sir,?Till you get your silver stars,?I'm sure you'll do them credit, sir,?As you have done the bars.?I know I shouldn't talk so much,?But somehow I'm inclined,?On leavin' the old outfit?Just to speak the company's mind.
PAY DAY
Oh, it's early in the morning,?The mules begin to squeal,?You hear the cooks a'bangin' pans?To get the mornin' meal;?The Bugler, sort o' toodlin,?Outside the Colonel's tent,?And you kind o' feel downhearted,?'Cause your last two bits is spent.
With a leggin-string you're fussin'?When the band begins to play,?And you listen, and stop cussin',--?What is that the bugles say??Oh, it's pay-day, pay-day, pay-day,?And the drums begin to roll,?And they sure do carry music?To the busted Johnnie's soul.
Some think about the