As he fought like a demon of hell.
They builded a shaft in the town of his birth
To the rascally skin and the beat
Who’d tricked Uncle Sam by short-changing of food,
A lynx-eyed and oily old cheat
Who yapped about honesty, horrors of war,
Contributed largely of speech
And words of advice to the youth thereabouts—
His pacifist face was a ‘screech’,
Ben hadn’t a shaft where his forefathers slept