He's workin' as a hostler
(He used to be a clerk)
He don't enjoy his job, that boy,
But Heinie is no shirk.
"This is my country just as much
As it is yours," says he;
"I'm gonna do what I can do
To keep it mine!... You'll see!
"My father, he come over here
To get away from things;
He couldn't abide on th' other side—
Aristocrats and kings.
The Stars and Stripes mean liberty,
I've always understood;
So gimme the right to work—or fight—
I betcha I'll make good.
"As a chambermaid to horses
In a battery that's new,
The work is rough and mean enough
And wouldn't appeal to you;
But I've got my place and I'll stick to it—
Can any man do more?
I've never had a chance, like dad,
To prove myself before."
Perhaps he won't get a commission;
Perhaps he is dull, and all that;
But somehow I feel that he's better than me—
Now whaddy you know about that?
OUR JOB
You mustn't hate the enemy—that wastes a lot of "pep"—
The Colonel passed the word around the training camp to-day.
The Captain says with modern war we gotta all catch step;
"Cut out the rough-necked rage and talk, and don't you think or say:
"'Pirates, rapists, murderers; poisoners and lying thieves;
Super-vandals, run amuck—black devils quoting sermons;
This world was mostly Heaven-made, our Chaplain, he believes;
But Hell itself conceived and spawned the Military Germans!
"The enemy is good at killing kids, and old folks, too;
Torpedoing hospital ships and blowin' up our plants;
But cogitatin' on their line of wicked things won't do;
We'll never hate 'em off the map—just give the guns a chance!"
So we don't go in for loathin', and with anger we don't burn;
We're drillin', and we're diggin', and we're workin' all the while;
To put 'er in the target is the trick we hafter learn—
And ev'ry man's a better shot when he can shoot—and smile!
The folks at home will spend their time a-broodin' over all
The nasty devils do and on the details they can dwell;
It's up to us to learn this game, and then—when comes the call—
Pump lead into the enemy—and send him back to hell.