And the name on their lips was Britain—the word that they spoke was War.
War!... Do you think I waited to talk about wrong or right
When I knew my own old country was up to the neck in a fight?
I said, "So long!"—and I beat it—"I'm hitting the trail to-night."
I wasn't long at my packing. I hadn't much time to dress,
And the cash I had at disposal was a ten-spot—more or less;
So I didn't wait for my ticket; I booked by the Hoboes' Express.
I rode the bumpers at night-time; I beat the ties in the day;
Stealing a ride and bumming a ride all of the blooming way,
And—I left the First Contingent drilling at Valcartier!