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The Little Old Road
There's a breath of May in the breeze On the little ol...

The Quality Of Mercy
There is an old saying, Like king, like people, which means t...

When The Tide Turned
THE AMERICAN ATTACK AT CHATEAU-THIERRY AND BELLEAU WOOD IN TH...

The Poilu
The soldier of France, the poilu, is a crusader. He is fight...

Four Soldiers
THE BOCHE The boche was chiefly what his masters made him....

The Fleet That Lost Its Soul
Sailors and especially fighters on the sea have in all ages p...

U S Destroyer _osmond C Ingram_
If you were standing on the deck of a patrol boat watching fo...

A Congressional Message
FROM PRESIDENT WILSON'S ANNUAL ADDRESS TO CONGRESS DECEMBE...

America Comes In
We are coming from the ranch, from the city and the mine, ...

The Turning Of The Tide
A division of marines and other American troops were rushed t...

The Unspeakable Turk
Although the great issues of the war were decided, and victor...

Sergeant York Of Tennessee
People will always differ as to what was the most remarkable ...

The Tommy
John Masefield, the English writer, says, St. George did not ...

Duty
So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man...

The Miner And The Tiger
On an October day in 1866, David Lloyd George, then a little ...

Joyce Kilmer
The first poet and author in the American army to give up his...

The Capture Of Dun
After the Americans had cleared the Saint Mihiel salient, Mar...

United States Day
United States Day was celebrated in Paris on April 20, 1918. ...

A Boy Of Perugia
In the year 1500, Raphael was a boy of eighteen in Perugia wo...

Where The Four Winds Meet
There are songs of the north and songs of the south, A...



The Call To Arms In Our Street






There's a woman sobs her heart out,
With her head against the door,
For the man that's called to leave her,
--God have pity on the poor!
But it's beat, drums, beat,
While the lads march down the street,
And it's blow, trumpets, blow,
Keep your tears until they go.

There's a crowd of little children
That march along and shout,
For it's fine to play at soldiers
Now their fathers are called out.
So it's beat, drums, beat;
And who will find them food to eat?
And it's blow, trumpets, blow,
Oh, it's little children know.

* * * * *

There's a young girl who stands laughing,
For she thinks a war is grand,
And it's fine to see the lads pass,
And it's fine to hear the band.
So it's beat, drums, beat,
To the fall of many feet;
And it's blow, trumpets, blow,
God go with you where you go.

W. M. LETTS.





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Previous: Vive La France 1



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