May, 1915
The maple leaf is stained with red,
Deeper than autumn's dye;
On foreign fields our noble dead
Their valor testify.
Cut off, out-numbered, ten to one,
By wolfish German pack
Our men like heroes fought and won,
They kept the Teutons back.
They held their post, they saved the day,
Those young lions from the West;
What higher tribute can we pay,
"They fought like Britain's best."
When reinforcements came at last,
Then woe betide the Huns,
From man to man the word was passed
"We must retake the guns."
Mid rifle ball and poison bomb,
Shrapnel and shrieking shell,
And all the hell of Kaiserdom,
They charged, while hundreds fell.
With fearless eye and ringing cheer
They made that wild advance,
For life was cheap and glory dear,
Those bloody days in France.
O, life is short to him who gives
Long years for selfish pay;
In righteous cause, the soldier lives
A lifetime in a day.
THE CANADIAN ARMY
The news, "the Old Land's in it,"
Stirred us one August morn,
Then waited not a minute
The fearless British born.
They were the first to offer
To die for England's name
Scorning the shirking scoffer,
Who would not play the game.
But when the German Kaiser
Of victories could brag,
Canadians got wiser
And rallied round the flag.
The Orangemen, stout-hearted,
The cheery lads in green,
When once the ball was started
In khaki garb were seen.
A regiment of Tories,
A regiment of Grits,
Discarded party worries
To give the Kaiser fits.
Battalions of free thinkers
and regiments of Jews
And some of water drinkers,
And some that hit the booze.
A regiment of Chinese,
A regiment of Yanks,
A regiment with fine knees
And bare and brawny shanks,
A regiment of teachers
Who laid aside the birch,
And one of sons of preachers,
A credit to the Church.
A regiment of Colonels,
Who couldn't get a sit,
(To judge by their externals
They're feeling fine and fit);
A regiment of slackers,
A regiment of thieves,
And one of bold bushwhackers,
All wearing maple leaves.
Battalions, too, of Frenchmen,
The breed that never yields,
Are making splendid trench men,
On Belgium's bloody fields.
Battalions from the prairies
Now man the smoking tubes;
From London and St. Marys,
A regiment of rubes.
Thus, to defend the nation,
They rallied to a man,
Our fighting population
So cosmopolitan.
Not one from danger blenches,
They vie in skill and pluck
And when they reach the trenches,
We call them all Canuck.