Read Ebook: With the Colors Songs of the American Service by Appleton Everard Jack

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Ebook has 145 lines and 12352 words, and 3 pages

e wrecks.... Before they could begin There tumbled out the mud-caked man, Whose mouth was shot away; A man who stared like some wild beast Finally brought to bay; For Briggs, Base Eight, American, Had brought A German officer, half drunk For need of rest! who swore And cried, and then sank back again And fell asleep.... That's why They've decorated little Briggs-- Red-headed, tall, and shy!

I wonder if you know him? A slim and quiet kid, Red-headed, tall, and soft of speech and glance; He doesn't like to have you talk about the thing he did-- And yet he's got a medal from the Government of France.

THE PENGUIN DRIVER

At home, he drove a taxi, A job he'd now disdain; He's learning To drive an aeroplane. It doesn't fly--it glumps along And bumps him, ev'ry chance; His tumbling, rumbling "Penguin" Out there--Somewhere in France.

It isn't fun to drive it, But he's not out for fun; He's going to learn to drop good bombs Upon the no-good Hun! And so, until he graduates, He makes his Penguin prance-- His bumping, jumping Penguin Out there--Somewhere in France.

As soon as he's a pilot, He'll take the air on high, you bet And do some bully things! The Prussians will be sorry He ever learned to dance With a rearing, tearing Penguin Out there--Somewhere in France.

WAITIN'

Back of the Front in this durn trainin' camp, Day after day we are stuck, an' we swear Whenever we hear th' regular tramp Of th' men who are through and are goin' somewhere. We're all of us willin', but why keep us drillin' Forever?... Just waitin' for somethin' to do!

At home they are readin' th' outlandish name Of a battle that's won or a hero that's dead Of a stunt that had won him a place in this Game-- But all that I've won is a cold in my head! While others are fightin' we're readin' or writin'-- An' the censors will see that it don't get to you!

We long for a scrap that will sizzle the blood; We hone for a chance to bust in a head; This marchin' an' diggin' in acres of mud Ain't as excitin' as bein' plain dead. War may be a curse, but this here is worse-- This dreamin' th' dreams that never come true.

All set for a mix-up that we can't begin; Ready and anxious for whatever comes, We're linked to the side-lines.... Ain't it a sin, Spendin' good hours a-twiddlin' thumbs? Seems like a crime to waste so much time A-waitin'--an' waitin'! You'd find it so, too.

WE'RE ALL RIGHT HERE!

What's th' meanin' of the look you see in soldiers' eyes? Some of them you thought would kick an' stall around an' howl; But just listen an' hear, to your surprise, A lot of laughs, a lot o' tales--but never once a growl!

Business man and bell hop, Farmer boy and clerk; Easy-going spendthrifts, Men that have to work; Firemen and brokers, Chauffeurs still "in gear"; The army is the melting pot-- We're all right here!

Desk men and road men, Men who sweep the street; Coal men and plumbers ; Showmen and film stars, All have mislaid fear. Funny crowd; but we should fret-- We're all right here!

REPRISAL

Sister Susie's sittin' knittin' Sweaters, wristlets, scarfs, an' socks; She ain't "sewin' shirts for soldiers" 'Cause she got so many knocks From th' papers 'bout her sewin'-- Now she's knittin' pounds of yarn Into things to send away.... Well, I don't care, Don't care a darn!

Hasn't knit no scarf or sweater, Hasn't made no socks for me; Little brother, he can rustle For himself alone, you see! Maw is on the Help Committee, Paw is drillin' with th' Guard; Brother's soldierin'--and sister's Knittin' fast An' awful hard!

THE SOUL OF SERGEANT TODD

"I wasn't so much of a soldier," said the soul of Sergeant Todd, "I wasn't so much of a fighter, but when they came, and came, Yelling and shooting, I just got mad, and I reckon I did the same. Into my trench they piled--just boys-- Making a most outlandish noise."

A Corporal's soul beside him nodded and mustered a smile: "You handled a dozen at once," he said; "they didn't come single file. If you wasn't 'much of a soldier,' or shirked in your duty--well, say, What sort of a chance have other men got when tested on Judgment Day? You fought them all, you did; and when They quit, you started in again!"

THE BUSY LADY

OVERDOING IT

THE GIVERS

John Lampas was a Greek, John Lampas isn't now; He's just a plain American And eating soldier chow. He joined the army recently, But first--he gave away His touring car, his watch, his cash To the Red Cross one day, And then enlisted. "That's all I can do," He said; "and I'm glad to give it, for true!"

HULLO, SOLDIER! HOW'S THE BOY?

Don't you think that we are just a bunch of flivvers; We've measured up the job that must be done And we know what we are facing, though the shivers Don't turn our spines to rubber--not a one! The Prussian scorned the world. Well, let him scorn it ; We haven't put on khaki to adorn it, But to make the Prussian sorry He was born; And to send him back, his "Kultur" Banner torn!

BEANS

A simple ditty Private Smithy sang for me, Entitled "Beans."... The tune was not a joy; The words were commonplace as they could be, But just to hear his earnest voice--"Oh, Boy!"

We all were soft and flabby-- Our hands and muscles, too-- We had been used to easy things To eat, to think, to do. But when we tackled trench work, With all that diggin' means, We learned to like the sojer grub, E-special-lee th' beans, Especially th' beans.

So now we're very diff'rent When mess-call comes around; We've got our appetites all set A-waitin' for that sound; It's always "second helpin's" Behind the mess-tent screens; We're glad for Uncle Sam's good grub, E-special-lee th' beans, Especially th' beans!

BEHIND THE LINES

Book-keeper, paymaster, spectacled clerk, Doing our bit, though it's every day work-- We're all of us part of The Service!

We're the backwash whirl of the pool of War gathering in the men, We cannot fight as others fight, though just as loyal and true; We're the silent corps of the Men Behind, over and over again Doing our part in the war for Right, small though it seem to you.

Figuring, checking-up, testing all day, Knowing no hours--and not too much pay-- We're all of us part of The Service.

THE DISAPPOINTED

There's a Red Cross Button on his left lapel, And a Liberty Bond pin on his right; There's a U. S. flag above the Red Cross, too; His patriotism's never out of sight! His loyalty is spread on his hollow breast , But the button that he's most ashamed to wear Is the one that reads

EXEMPT U. S.

There's an aching heart in his 28-chest, There's a look of deep longing in his eyes; Behind his heavy glasses there gleams a hope That maybe he can grow an inch in size! There's a hero-throb in the heart of that boy, Though he wears too much "scenery"--ah, yes!-- But the badge that hurts he really tries to hide-- It's the one that reads

EXEMPT U. S.

EXEMPT U. S.

GOODBYE, BOYS!

THAT'S ALL

To take this trouble seriously, But not to gloom or whine; To never overestimate Our strength, or to decline To see this is no picnic, But do our earnest part With brain and muscles, newly trained-- To keep a steady heart!

To laugh--whenever laughter Is best to keep us fit; To shake hands with privation When face to face with it. To give without complaining Or boasting what we give; To make this world a safer world For those who have to live!

To part with old traditions That hampered in the past; To see that heart-wrung "aliens" As enemies aren't classed, But treated--while deserving it-- As human beings, too;

AN AMERICAN CREED

Straight thinking, Straight talking, Straight doing, And a firm belief in the might of right.

Patience linked with patriotism, Justice added to kindliness, Uncompromising devotion to this country, And active, not passive, Americanism.

To talk less, to mean more, To complain less, to accomplish more, And to so live that every one of us is ready to look Eternity in the face at any moment, and be unafraid!

IN OTHER KEYS

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