My dad is getting rather stout,
And hates to mow the lawn;
But when he gets the mower out,
First thing he knows I'm gone;
But when I've trouble with my pa
No matter what it's for,
I make an ally of my ma,
And then I win the war.
THE TRENCH THAT FRITZ BUILT
This is the trench that Fritz built.
This is the Hun who lay in the trench that
Fritz built.
This is the gun that killed the Hun who lay
in the trench that Fritz built.
This is the farmer's only son, who mans the
gun that killed the Hun, who lay in the trench
that Fritz built.
This is the farmer, weary and worn, who
raised the son, who mans the gun, that killed
the Hun, who lay in the trench that Fritz
built.
This is she, who in youth's bright morn,
was wed to the man, now weary and worn,
'tis she to whom the son was born, who in
front of the battle, all tattered and torn, still
mans the gun that killed the Hun, who lay in
the trench that Fritz built.