ating 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