Speaking of getting shipped, I have just written a very sad song in the style of the old sentimental ballads of the Spanish war days. It's called "The Sailor's Farewell," and I think Polly will like it. I haven't polished it up yet, but here it is as it is:
A sailor to his mother came and said, "Oh, mother dear,
I got to go away and fight the war.
So, mother, don't you cry too hard, and don't you have no fear
When you find that I'm not sticking 'round no more."
"My boy," the sweet old lady said, "I hate to see you go.
I've knowed you since when you was but a kid,
But if the question you should ask, I'll tell the whole world so—
It's the only decent thing you ever did."
A tear she brushed aside,
And then she sadly cried:
CHORUS
"I'm proud my boy's a sailor man what sails upon the sea.
I've always liked him pretty well although he is so dumb.
For years he's stuck around the house and disappointed me.
I thought that he was going to be a bum."
He took her gently by the hand and kissed her on the bean
And said, "When I'm about to fight the Hun
You shouldn't talk to me that way; I think it's awfully mean—
I ain't agoin' to have a lot of fun."
"I know, my child," the mother said. "The parting makes me sad,
But go you must away and fight the war.
At least you will not live to drink as much as did your dad—
So here's your lid, my lad, and there's the door."
Then as he turned away
He heard her softly say:
CHORUS