With the Colors | Page 5

little mother, with the shadows in your eyes And the icy hand of Fear about your heart,?You cannot help your boy prepare to make his sacrifice?Unless you make yours bravely, at the start!_
He is training, as a million others train;?He is giving what the others give--their best;?Make him feel your faith in him, though your troubled eyes grow dim; Let him know that you can stand the acid test!
Because he's joined the colors--he's not dead!?Because he's found his duty--he's not lost!?Through your mother-love, my dear, keep him steady, keep him near To the soul he loves--your soul--whate'er the cost!
You're not alone in heartaches or in doubts;?All mothers feel this burden newly coined;?Then call your trembling pride to your colors--to your side-- "Be a sport!" and make him glad that he has joined!
_Little mother, little mother, with the shadows in your eyes And the icy hand of Fear about your heart,?There is this that you can do: "Play the game"; there honor lies. Now your boy and country need you--do your part!_
SOLDIERS OF THE SOIL
It's a high-falutin' title they have handed us;?It's very complimentary an' grand;?But a year or so ago they called us "hicks," you know--?An' joshed the farmer and his hired hand!
Now it's, "Save the country, Farmer!?Be a soldier of the soil!?Show your patriotism, pardner,?By your never-ending toil."?So we're croppin' more than ever,?An' we're speedin' up the farm;?Oh, it's great to be a soldier--?A sweatin', sun-burnt soldier,--?A soldier in the furrows--?Away from "war's alarm!"
While fightin' blight and blister,?We hardly get a chance?To read about our "comrades"?A-doin' things in France.?To raise the grub to feed 'em?Is some job, believe me--plus!?And I ain't so sure a soldier--?A shootin', scrappin' soldier,?That's livin' close to dyin'--?Ain't got the best of us!
But we'll harrer and we'll harvest,?An' we'll meet this new demand?Like the farmers always meet it--?The farmers--and the land.?An' we hope, when it is over?An' this war has gone to seed,?You will know us soldiers better--?Th' sweatin', reapin' soldiers,?Th' soldiers that have hustled?To raise th' grub you need!
It's a mighty fancy title you have given us,?A name that sounds too fine to really stick;?But maybe you'll forget (when you figure out your debt)?To call th' man who works a farm a "hick."
THE LADIES' MAN
Billy is a ladies' man; Billy dances fine?(Always was a bear-cat at the game);?Billy pulls the social stuff all along the line--?But he knows this business, just the same.
He can march; he can drill?As hard as any rook;?And he knows his manual?Without his little book.
Maybe he was soft at first--ev'rybody's that;?Golfing was his hardest labor then;?Now he's in the Service (where you don't grow fat),?Digging, drilling, like us other men.
He can eat, he can sleep?Like any healthy brute--?And the Captain says that Billy-boy?Is learning how to shoot!
When he joined the Training Camp, Billy says, "No doubt,?I will draw some clerical position;"?But he's shown he can _command_; so--the news is out--?He will get a regular commission!
He can talk; he can dance?(He is still the ladies' pet)?But the way he barks his orders out?Gets _action_, you c'n bet!
COOKIE JIM
The capting says, says he to us:?"Your duty is to do your best;?We can't ALL lead in this here muss,?So mind your job! That is the test?O' soldierin',?O' soldierin'--?To mind your job, while soldierin'!"
When Jimmy joined the colors first, he knowed that soon he'd be A non-com. officer,--oh, sure, he had that idee firm;?But Jimmy got another think, fer quite eventually?They had him workin' like a Turk, th' pore, astonished worm.
The rest of us, we gotta eat, and Jimmy--he can cook!?(He makes a stew that tastes as good as mother used to make.) An' when he starts to flappin' cakes, why, every hungry rook Is droolin' at the mouth for them, a-waitin' fer his take.
He's ranked a sergeant, but he don't mix up with no recruits; He rides a horse when we parade (which ain't so often now); But where he shines is when we eat; the grub that Jimmy shoots At hungry troopers every day is certainly "some chow."
He's jest a "dough-boy," of a sort; it's Jimmy's job to cook; Don't hafter drill, don't hafter tote a lot of arms with him; Jest messes up th' stuff we eat, and we don't hafter look-- It's _always_ clean! So here's a good luck and health to Cookie Jim!
The capting says, says he: "You rooks?Have gotta lot to learn, I'll say,?'Cept Jimmy; he's the best o' cooks?Troop Z has had fer many a day?While soldierin',?While soldierin'--?He does his work, while soldierin'!"
THE SANDWICH GIRL
This is the story as told to me;
It may be a fairy-tale new,?But I know the man, and I know that he lies
Very infrequently, too!
When the boys in khaki first were called to serve,?Guarding railroad bridges and the like,?Bob was just a private in the old N. G.,?Fond of all the work--except the