class="c2">Has gone, she confided to me.
"But you should be brave and 'buck up'," I remarked.
"And yours?" she asked.... How did she divine
That I am not married?... Oh, well, after this
I'll mind no one's business—b-but mine!

OVERDOING IT

This horrid old war is right in our house
Making itself at home, goodness sakes!
The scraps from our table won't feed a mouse
We've cut out desserts, salads, and cakes.
Monday is meatless and Tuesday is dry,
Wednesday is sugarless, too, gee whiz!
Our plates must be cleaned, they tell us. That's why
We eat the garbage before it is!

So I bought a melon the other day
When ma was 'tending a Red Cross tea.
I wanted it awful bad.... Anyway
It wasn't so big—just right for me—
And then, just to keep from wasting a drop,
I ate it all up!... Our colored Liz
Says Pa told the doctor, "My fault, old top—
"'We eat the garbage before it is.'"

The doctor was writing a 'scription note
When I come to, turned over and grinned,
And he frowned at Pa, as he wrote and wrote,
Till Pa grew red like his cheeks was skinned.
"Eating the garbage? Now, listen, man,
If that's your game it's good for my biz.
But if I was you, I surely would 'can'
"'We eat the garbage before it is!'"

THE GIVERS

"I've given a lot of my time and work
To helping my country," says he;
"No one can tell you that I am a shirk
In the great cause of Liberty!"
(Perhaps you have met him?
Well, then, forget him!)

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!"

He doesn't ask for praise,
For jollies, or for guff;
He gave because this land gave him
A chance—which was enough!
He hasn't got a dollar;
He's just a khakied man,
But, somehow, he seems mighty like
A true American!
His cash and his watch and his auto he gave,
And then himself. Was that foolish, or brave?

So when I hear that other chap
Congratulate himself because
He gave "some time"—I'd like to rap
Him once across his selfish paws!
(Because I have met him—
I want to forget him!)

HULLO, SOLDIER! HOW'S THE BOY?

We're not a bit deluded by the notion
That this is just a picnic, or that we
Enlisted for a trip across the ocean—
There's work ahead, not just a joyous spree.
Of course we sing and talk and sometimes dance;
But get this in your mind—that when we hear
"Hullo, Soldier! How's the boy?" as we disembark in France,
They will hear us answer, "Ready!"
Loud and clear;
They will see that we are ready,
Never fear.

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
(The world exchanges loathing for that scorn);
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!

So it doesn't matter that some foolish people
Bemoan the fact this Army's on the go;
Unless it is, the harvest they will reap'll
Be slavery or death, they ought to know.
It isn't what they want or what we'd like—
It's what we've got to do.... When others say,
"Hullo, Soldier! How's the boy?" as we drill and shoot and hike,
They must hear us answer, "Ready!"
Ev'ry day,
It's this nation's debt to France we've
Come to pay!

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!"

When first I went a-sojerin'
I couldn't eat the stuff
The cookies gave the bunch of us,
For it was rough and tough.
But since I've been a-sojerin'
And learned what livin' means
The grub we get tastes mighty good,
E-special-lee th' beans,
Especially th' beans!

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!

A very simple ditty, you'll agree with me;
A commonplace production; but the joy
And unction that he puts into the melody,
The splendid appetite he sings—Oh, Boy!

BEHIND THE LINES

We number hundreds of thousands, and we're nowhere near the front;
We're pen and pencil pushers, or "serving" the adding machines;
We'll never reach the