It's recorded as a battle, but I fancy it will live
As the brightest gem of courage human struggles have to give.
Inch by inch, they crawled to victory toward the flaming mouths of guns;
Inch by inch, they crawled to grapple with the barricaded Huns;
On through fields that death was sweeping with a murderous fire, they went
Till the Teuton line was vanquished and the German strength was spent.
Ebbed and flowed the tides of battle, as they've seldom done before;
Slowly, surely, moved the Yankees against all the odds of war.
For the honor of the fallen, for the glory of the dead,
The living line of courage kept the faith and moved ahead.
They'd been ordered not to falter, and when night came on they stood
With Old Glory proudly flying o'er the trees of Belleau Wood.
Partridge Time
When Pa came home last night he had a package in his hand;
"Now, Ma," said he, "I've something here which you will say is grand.
A friend of mine got home to-day from hunting in the woods,
He's been away a week or two, and got back with the goods.
He had a corking string of birds—I wish you could have seen 'em!"
"If you've brought any partridge home," said Ma, "you'll have to clean 'em."
"Now listen, Ma," said Pa to her, "these birds are mighty rare.
I know a lot of men who'd pay a heap to get a pair.
But it's against the law to sell this splendid sort of game,
And if you bought 'em you would have to use a different name.
It isn't every couple has a pair to eat between 'em."
"If you got any partridge there," says Ma, "you'll have to clean 'em."
"Whenever kings want something fine, it's partridge that they eat,
And millionaires prefer 'em, too, to any sort of meat.
About us everywhere to-night are folks who'd think it fine
If on a brace of partridge they could just sit down to dine.
They've got a turkey skinned to death, they're sweeter than a chicken."
"If that's what you've brought home," says Ma, "you'll have to do the pickin'."
And then Pa took the paper off and showed Ma what he had.
"There, look at those two beauties! Don't they start you feelin' glad?
An' ain't your mouth a-waterin' to think how fine they'll be
When you've cooked 'em up for dinner, one for you an' one for me?"
But Ma just turned her nose up high, an' said, when she had seen 'em,
"You'll never live to eat 'em if you wait for me to clean 'em."
The Making of a Friend