With the Colors / Songs of the American Service

by Everard Jack Appleton

HULLO, SOLDIER! HOW'S THE BOY?

We're not a bit deluded by the notion
That this is just a picnic, or that we
Enlisted for a trip across the ocean—
There's work ahead, not just a joyous spree.
Of course we sing and talk and sometimes dance;
But get this in your mind—that when we hear
"Hullo, Soldier! How's the boy?" as we disembark in France,
They will hear us answer, "Ready!"
Loud and clear;
They will see that we are ready,
Never fear.

Don't you think that we are just a bunch of flivvers;
We've measured up the job that must be done
And we know what we are facing, though the shivers
Don't turn our spines to rubber—not a one!
The Prussian scorned the world. Well, let him scorn it
(The world exchanges loathing for that scorn);
We haven't put on khaki to adorn it,
But to make the Prussian sorry
He was born;
And to send him back, his "Kultur"
Banner torn!

So it doesn't matter that some foolish people
Bemoan the fact this Army's on the go;
Unless it is, the harvest they will reap'll
Be slavery or death, they ought to know.
It isn't what they want or what we'd like—
It's what we've got to do.... When others say,
"Hullo, Soldier! How's the boy?" as we drill and shoot and hike,
They must hear us answer, "Ready!"
Ev'ry day,
It's this nation's debt to France we've
Come to pay!

BEANS

A simple ditty Private Smithy sang for me,
Entitled "Beans."... The tune was not a joy;
The words were commonplace as they could be,
But just to hear his earnest voice—"Oh, Boy!"

When first I went a-sojerin'
I couldn't eat the stuff
The cookies gave the bunch of us,
For it was rough and tough.
But since I've been a-sojerin'
And learned what livin' means
The grub we get tastes mighty good,
E-special-lee th' beans,
Especially th' beans!

We all were soft and flabby—
Our hands and muscles, too—
We had been used to easy things
To eat, to think, to do.
But when we tackled trench work,
With all that diggin' means,
We learned to like the sojer grub,
E-special-lee th' beans,
Especially th' beans.

So now we're very diff'rent
When mess-call comes around;
We've got our appetites all set
A-waitin' for that sound;>
It's always "second helpin's"
Behind the mess-tent screens;
We're glad for Uncle Sam's good grub,
E-special-lee th' beans,
Especially th' beans!

A very simple ditty, you'll agree with me;
A commonplace production; but the joy
And unction that he puts into the melody,
The splendid appetite he sings—Oh, Boy!