Then, as he marched himself into the night,
We looked at each other a spell.
"We've ditched our good luck—he won't let her come back,"
Says Wilcox. "Now isn't that hell!"
BUGLER BILL
Bugler Bill—mild-mannered, shy—
Is straight.... But I wonder if Bill would lie?
Bugler Bill is a pensive lad,
Whether he's workin' or not;
Serious-faced an' pitiful sad—
(Think he was goin' t' be shot!)
Whenever he bugles, some of us cry—
Reveille, taps, or mess—
With musical sob-stuff Bill gets by,
Plaintive and full of distress!
Bugler Bill is never real gay,
But built on a sour-face plan;
Bill wouldn't laugh, whatever you'd say;
Looks like a love-poisoned man.
"Grin, ye hyenas," he'll say as he smokes;
"I ain't a frivolous guy—"
"Thinkin' of all of the pain you caused folks
While learnin' to play?" asks I.
Bugler Bill, he sighs as he turns,
Shakin' his head at me.
"A long while ago th' bugle I learns—
So don't you git funny," says he.
"My audience laughed till it cried salty tears,
An' everyone called me a joy.
I was a clown in a circus for years—
That's why I'm solemn, my boy!"
Bugler Bill come "out of the Draft"—
D'you s'pose at that joke he actually laughed?
HEINIE THE HOSTLER
He's not very handsome or clever,
He's slow in his wits—and he's fat,
And yet he's a soldier of Uncle Sam's—
Now, whaddy you know about that?
We always called him Dummy,
And thought he wouldn't fight;
We sneered at him and jeered at him—
He was—and is—a sight!
His feet are big, his head is small,
His German blood is slow,
But at the call for volunteers,
Why, didn't Heinie go?