THE ALLIED FORCES
November, 1914
When Johnnie Bull pledges his word,
To keep it he'll gird on his sword,
While allies and sons
Will shoulder their guns;
The prince, and the peasant, and lord.
First there's bold Tommy Aitkins himself,
For a shilling a day of poor pelf,
And for love of his King,
And the fun of the thing,
He fights till he's laid on the shelf.
Brave Taffy is ready to go
As soon as the war bugles blow;
He fights like the diel,
When it comes to cold steel,
And dies with his face to the foe.
And Donald from North Inverness,
Who fights in a ballet girl's dress;
He likes a free limb,
No tight skirts for him,
Impending his march to success.
The gun runner, stern, from Belfast,
Now stands at the head of the mast;
If a tempest should come,
Or a mine or a bomb,
He will stick to his post to the last.
And Hogan, that broth of a lad,
Home Ruler from Bally-na-fad,
Writes—"I'm now in the trench
With the English and French,
And we're licking the Germans, be dad!"
The Cockney Canuck from Toronto,
Whom Maple leaves hardly stick on to,
Made haste to enlist,
To fight the mailed fist,
When Canadian born didn't want to.