The Project Gutenberg eBook, Rhymes of the Rookies, by W. E. Christian

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Title: Rhymes of the Rookies

Author: W. E. Christian

Release Date: October 27, 2004 [eBook #13886]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHYMES OF THE ROOKIES***

E-text prepared by Al Haines

RHYMES OF THE ROOKIES

Sunny Side of Soldier Service

by

W. E. CHRISTIAN

1917

To the Colors

  Here's to the Red of the Firing Line;
  Here's to a World White-Free;
  Here's to the Blue of the Yankee Sign;
  Here's to Liberty!

—W. E. C

To

  THEODORE ROOSEVELT
  Colonel of the Rough Riders

  Who, more than any other one man
  gives out
  The Spirit and the Meaning
  of the
  AMERICAN SOLDIER

CONTENTS

MY BUNKIE OUR OFFICERS PAY DAY THE ARMY GROUCH WEANING TIME "HANDS ACROSS THE SEA" THE HIKE A-B-C OF ARMY LIFE A SOLDIER'S PRIMER THE TALE AND WAIL OF A ROOKIE A MARINE'S HYMN HERE'S TO THE SIXTEENTH HIKING IN THE PHILIPPINES THE MOUNTAIN BATTERY SONG THE CAVALRY SONG THE RED GUIDON THE CONSCRIPT THE SLACKER PREPAREDNESS "BEANS" ADVICE THE SCENT OF THE COCOA MEN OF THE HOSPITAL CORPS GARRISON LIFE THE PHILIPPINITIS THE EAST IS A-CALLING TELL YOUR TROUBLES TO THE CORPORAL OF THE GUARD GENERAL ORDERS OF THE KITCHEN POLICE IS HE A SOREHEAD? FUNSTON YEAR 2016 IN CHIHUAHUA WITH PERSHING IN MEXICO OLD BALDY "KAISER BILL" THE RAW RECRUIT SERVING IN TEXAS O'REILLY'S GONE TO HELL ON THE "BORDER" ROUTINE THE UNIFORM IN THE COLD GRAY DAWN OF THE MORNING AFTER THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POSTER ARMY FEVER ONE TO THE ARMY BEAN LITTLE THINGS SING-A-SONG-A-SIXPENCE QUEEN OF MAY A YOUNG ROOKIE'S LAMENT DANNY DEEVER BALLAD PUZZY LAPPINS A CYNIC'S VIEW OF ARMY LIFE THE SONG OF THE SHOVEL AND THE PICK

ARMY SLANG ENGLISH ARMY SLANG WORDS TO THE ARMY TRUMPET CALLS FIRST AID IN CASE OF ACCIDENTS FRENCH MONEY ENGLISH MONEY

MY BUNKIE

  He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan,
  He'd surely come under society's ban,
  He's a swearin', fightin' cavalryman,
    But—he's my bunkie.

  He's weathered the winds of the Western waste.
  (You, gentle Christian, would call him debased)
  And he's loved at his ease and married in haste,
    Has my bunkie.

  In a Philippine paddy he's slept in the rain,
  When he's drunk rotten booze that drives you insane,
  And he's often court-martialed—yes, over again,
    Is my bunkie.

  He's been on the booze the whole blooming night,
  To mount guard next morning most awfully tight,
  Though he's "dressed" like a soldier when given "Guide Right,"
    He's my bunkie.

  He doesn't know Browning or Ibsen or Keats,
  But he knows mighty well when the other man cheats
  And he licks him and makes him the laugh of the streets,
    Does my bunkie.

  He stands by and cheers when I'm having fun,
  And when it is over says, "Pretty well done,"
  But he takes a large hand if they rush two to one,
    For—he's my bunkie.

  When Taps has blown and all the troop is asleep,
  We nudge each other and gingerly creep,
  To where the shadows hang heavy and deep,
    I and my bunkie.

  And then when the fire-flies flittering roam,
  We sit close together out there in the gloam,
  And talk about things appertaining to home,
    I and my bunkie.

  If the slow tropic fever is a-shaking my spine,
  And they blow "boots and saddles" to chase the brown swine,
  He'll give me a leg-up and ride me in line,
    Will my bunkie.

  And if I get hit—his arm goes around,
  And raises me tenderly off of the ground,
  And the words on his lips are a comforting sound,
    The words of my bunkie.

OUR OFFICERS

  I'm goin' to be discharged, sir;
  My time is near its close,
  I want to tell you, cap'en,
  You're the best the country grows.
  They ain't no man in all the world
  Can beat the army man,
  That wears the shiny leggins and
  That does the best he can.

    I've seen them, sir, in battle
    With the bullets flyin' round,
    I've seen them lying wounded
    With the blood-stains on the ground.
    I've watched them when the fever
    Was a-ragin' in the camp,
    I've seen them nurse the cholera—
    A-wrestling with the cramp.

  I've seen them pin to that ol' flag
  Another glory more,
  That made the stripes look brighter
  Than they ever did before.
  They weren't winning V.C.'s, either,
  But because the country said
  For them to go, they went.
  They done it or they're dead.

    We've lots of men of this kind an'
    Of course, we've some that ain't,
    We'll cover up their faces
    In the picture that we paint.
    I'll follow men like you, sir;
    You can't go too fast an' far,
    You're officers and gentlemen
    Like Congress says you are.

  I wish I could re-up, sir,
  Till you get your silver stars,
  I'm sure you'll do them credit, sir,
  As you have done the bars.
  I know I shouldn't talk so much,
  But somehow I'm inclined,
  On leavin' the old outfit
  Just to speak the company's mind.

PAY DAY

  Oh, it's early in the morning,
  The mules begin to squeal,
  You hear the cooks a'bangin' pans
  To get the mornin' meal;
  The Bugler, sort o' toodlin,
  Outside the Colonel's tent,
  And you kind o' feel downhearted,
  'Cause your last two bits is spent.

  With a leggin-string you're fussin'
  When the band begins to play,
  And you listen, and stop cussin',—
  What is that the bugles say?
  Oh, it's pay-day, pay-day, pay-day,
  And the drums begin to roll,
  And they sure do carry music
  To the busted Johnnie's soul.

  Some think about the girls they'll get,
  And some, about the beer;
  Some say they'll send their money home,
  And all begin to cheer.
  The games will soon be goin'
  Snap your fingers at the dice;
  With