The Great "O. P."
"Forward, march!" the left foot first,
The heel down mighty hard,
Your head erect and turned to the left,
As you slyly watch the guard.
Tramp, tramp, three times each day,
Back and forth to our meals,
While the fellow behind, with his "State brogans,"
Scrapes the skin all off our heels.
The visitors in amaze at us gaze
As we march gayly by,
The ladies fair, with many a stare,
Will slyly say, "O my!"
Some "Hayseed" old, with a chronic cold,
Will suddenly say, "I swow!
There goes the man—do you see him Ann?—
What took our brindle cow!"