War Rhymes | Page 4

the volunteers at Valcartier are Canadian born."
"A large number of men are being kept at home by their wives and
mothers."

--Recent News Items.
Our Jack Canuck is active,
He plays a pretty goal,
But make swift
runs to cover
When drums begin to roll.
And Jack Canuck's unselfish,
He lets the honors go
All to his
British brother,
When war time bugles blow.
And Jack Canuck is modest;
That's why he chooses rears,
And sees
the front seats taken
By British volunteers.
Yes, Jack Canuck's a hero
Whose glory never fades;
He'll lick his
weight in wild cats
--The day his lodge parades.
And Jack Canuck's free handed
He sends, (Jack's awful wise),
His
dumpling dust in ship loads;
(It pays to advertise).
For Jack Canuck is thrifty,
He wants, when peace is made,
To feed
the worn out nations,
And capture all the trade.
And Miss Canuck and Mrs.,
They value so the lives
Of husband,
son and sweetheart,
These daughters, maids and wives.
They'll let the Belgian mother,
The French and English maid
Give
husband, lover, brother,
To stop the Kaiser's raid.
They'll see sweet Highland Mary
Walk life's long path alone,
And
hear dear Irish Nora
Wail for the loved ones gone.
They'll send a feather pillow
Or knit a pair of socks,
And think
they've done their duty
By them that take the knocks.
Oh that our hearts were bigger,
And not so worldly wise;
'When
duty calls, or danger;'
Ready to sacrifice.
WHAT OWEST THOU

February, 1915
In blood bought Belgian trenches,
On stormy Northern Sea,
Brave
hearts of oak are watching,
Protecting you and me.
The British wife and mother,
The maid with sweetheart dear,
Lest
those they love should falter
Hold back the scalding tear.
"Your King and Country need you,"
They say with courage high.

"Your fathers, too, were soldiers;
And not afraid to die."
Like fearless free born Britons,
Not Kaiser driven slaves,
Go heroes
from the homeland
To unmarked foreign graves.
Shall we, with path made easy,
While others fight and fall,
In
freedom's hour of danger
Neglect the Empire's call?
Shall we hoard up our dollars?
Shall farmers hold their wheat,

While children suffer hunger,
And workmen walk the street?
That land is doomed already
To black, unending night,
Whose old
men worship money;
Whose young men will not fight.
O, for some John the Baptist!
Some prophet Malachi,
To lash our
selfish conscience,
And teach us purpose high.

Thank Heaven there's a remnant,
A few not quite enslaved,
For ten
just men in Sodom,
The city would have saved.
A CALL TO THE COLORS
November, 1915
Ye strong young men of Huron,
Ye sons of Britons true,
Your
fathers fought for freedom,
And now it's up to you;
Your brother's

blood is calling,
For you they fought and died,
Brave boys with
souls unconquered,
By Huns are crucified.
Ten million Hunnish outlaws,
The Kaiser's tools and slaves,
Have
strewn the sea with corpses,
And scarred the earth with graves;

They know no god but mammon;
No law but sword and flame,

They crush the weaker peoples,
With deeds we dare not name.
See Belgium rent and bleeding,
The Kaiser's hellish work,
Armenia
vainly pleading
For mercy from the Turk.
The Poles and Serbs are
dying
The victims of the Huns,
With anguished voices crying,
"O
send us men and guns!"
Think of the Lusitania,
Of martyred Nurse Cavell,
Then say, "Can
these be human
Who act like fiends of hell."
The Empire's in the
conflict,
And bound to see it through;
Each man the old flag
shelters,
Must share the burden too.
Then rise, ye sons of Huron,
All hell has broken loose,
The Kaiser's
strafe is on us,
With him we make no truce.
Come, rally to the
colors
Till victory is won,
Your King and country need you,
And
duty must be done.
CHOOSE YE
In times like these, each heart decrees
A law unto itself;
What shall
it be for you and me,
Self sacrifice or pelf?
Which shall we choose,
to win or lose?
Our all is in the game:
What shall we give that Truth
may live?
How much in Freedom's name?
A hero's heart, an honored name,
Or coward's part, and shirker's
shame?
The awful strife, wounds and disease,
Or sordid life of
selfish ease?
An open purse, our strength in full,
Or painted horse
and party pull?
The trenches' mud, and trusted word,
Or tainted
blood, and rusted sword?
Soul unafraid, the prayer of faith,
Or heart

dismayed at thought of death?
The noble deed, the unmarked grave,

Or craven greed our lives to save?
Where shall we stand that this fair land
No Kaiser's strafe shall know?

Shall never feel the Prussian heel,
Nor German kultur show?

This we will do, if we are true;
Honor the Empire's call,
Each bear
his part with loyal heart,
Lest Britain's flag may fall.
THE SLACKER'S SON
"The teacher says at school, dad, that twenty years ago The Kaiser tried
to rule, dad, and plunged the world in woe. When Britain needed men,
dad, to help to fight the Huns, Boys dropped the plow and pen, dad, to
go and man the guns.
Each man he did his share, dad, the loyal, strong and true; I wish I had
been there, dad, to fight along with you.
I'm glad you met no harm,
dad, and wear no wooden peg;
For Bill's dad lost an arm, dad, and
Jim's dad lost a leg.
The Kaiser was so