Can’t you see I’m very tired,
Mr. Fly?
That the G. I. Cans don’t bust,
And I’ve nibbled on a crust,
And deserve a snooze, I trust,
Mr. Fly.
Do you think it’s square and decent,
Mr. Fly,
When the Cooties cease to bite,
(And there is no sleep at night)
That you give me no respite,
Mr. Fly?
An hour’s calm is with us,
Mr. Fly;
And the endless battle strain,
And the shelling and the rain,
Ought to make it very plain,
Mr. Fly—
That I need a little nap,
Mr. Fly.
That I do need mighty well
Just to sun and rest a spell,
And to sleep here where I fell,
Mr. Fly.
So have a heart, oh have a heart!
Mr. Fly.
If you’re looking for a fight
And you must come ’round and bite,
Make your visit in the night,
Mr. Fly.
THE SALVATION ARMY WITH THE A. E. F.
You kept no roped-off rows of chairs
Or clubs “For Officers Only,”
But you toiled for John Doe when he was
Cold, tired, wet and lonely.
You didn’t squander millions
On soldiers warming benches,
But you worked like blazes for the ones
That frequented the trenches.
You didn’t stick to cast-iron rules
Of business most punctilious,
And you never treated Private Doe
With manner supercilious.
You had no boundless backing—
But just inside your doors
It seemed like, “Feel to home, Bill—
Sit down, the place is yours.”