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World Wars

Waiting For The Flash
Not at once can the mind grasp the full significance of the w...

The United States At War--at Home
When any nation declares war, it immediately brings upon itse...

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

Blocking The Channel
Bruges is an important city of Belgium made familiar to Ameri...

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

Song Of The Aviator
(This poem was written for an entertainment given by the Y.M....

A Carol From Flanders
1914 In Flanders on the Christmas morn The trench...

The Thirteenth Regiment
The World War has shown clearly that all peoples are not alik...

Harry Lauder Sings
Harry Lauder, an extremely popular Scotch singer and entertai...

In Memoriam
[THE FIGHTING YEARS, 1914-1918] Ring out, wild bells, ...

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

Fighting A Depth Bomb
All who have read of the sinking of the Lusitania, by a torpe...

Why The United States Entered The War
The United States was slow to enter the war, because her peop...

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

To Wish To Take Away One From The Immortal Glory Which Belongs
to the Allied armies, nor from the undying gratitude which we o...

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

Where Are You Going Great-heart?
Where are you going, Great-Heart, With your eager face...

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

The Call To Arms In Our Street
There's a woman sobs her heart out, With her head agains...

The Yank
The boche went into the war as a robber, the poilu as a crusa...



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.





Next: The Kaiser's Crown

Previous: Vive La France 1



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