“HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?”
Right and left the caissons drew As the car went lumbering through, Quick succeeding in review Squadrons military; Sunburnt men with beards like frieze, Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these: “U. S. San. Com.” “That’s the cheese!” “Pass in, Sanitary!”
In such cheer it struggled on Till the battle front was won; Then the car, its journey done, Lo! was stationary; And where bullets whistling fly Came the sadder, fainter cry: “Help us, brothers, ere we die!— Save us, Sanitary!”
Such the work. The phantom flies, Wrapped in battle-clouds that rise; But the brave—whose dying eyes, Veiled and visionary, See the jasper gates swung wide, See the parted throng outside— Hears the voice to those who ride: “Pass in, Sanitary!”