“That there’s the souvenir I copped, Some pretty watch—eh what! From that there time she’s never stopped— She’s Fritzie on the spot!
You can’t have scruples when you’ve seen Your poor old pal go West, With blood a-tricklin’ in the mud And oozin’ from his chest.
“You carry on, you just don’t care, For somethin’ seems to tell He’s callin’ to you from somewhere— ‘Go on—and give ’em Hell!’”
Le Mans, France, January, 1919.
KIDDY OF FRANCE
Kiddy of France in your raggedy clothes Toddling along in your wooden sabots— Daddy’s old cap on his little Poilu— Now it’s all faded but once it was new— Kiddy of France with that laugh in your eyes, Tell me the secret that under it lies— Comment allez-vous today?
Kiddy—mon chérie, Je vous demande Why do you press so with that little hand? Why are you jogging along at my side? Measure for measure you stretch to my stride. Kiddy—mon chérie, now out with it, come, “Avez-vous, avez-vous—some chewing gum? Avez-vous candy?”—I thought so, go on, “Avez-vous chocolat”—yes, yes—and “bon-bon?” There now mon chérie, my little Poilu, Voilà: Your gum! And now then—que dites-vous? “Merci Monsieur”—ah you’re welcome, I’m sure A hundred times welcome, mon chérie: Bonjour!
Ballon, France, February, 1919.