se, our strength in full,
Or painted horse and party pull?
The trenches' mud, and trusted word,
Or tainted blood, and rusted sword?
Soul unafraid, the prayer of faith,
Or heart dismayed at thought of death?
The noble deed, the unmarked grave,
Or craven greed our lives to save?

Where shall we stand that this fair land
No Kaiser's strafe shall know?
Shall never feel the Prussian heel,
Nor German kultur show?
This we will do, if we are true;
Honor the Empire's call,
Each bear his part with loyal heart,
Lest Britain's flag may fall.

THE SLACKER'S SON

"The teacher says at school, dad, that twenty years ago
The Kaiser tried to rule, dad, and plunged the world in woe.
When Britain needed men, dad, to help to fight the Huns,
Boys dropped the plow and pen, dad, to go and man the guns.

Each man he did his share, dad, the loyal, strong and true;
I wish I had been there, dad, to fight along with you.
I'm glad you met no harm, dad, and wear no wooden peg;
For Bill's dad lost an arm, dad, and Jim's dad lost a leg.

The Kaiser was so strong, dad, that Britain almost lost,
The war was hard and long, dad, and none could count the cost.
Our men were firm and brave, dad, and freely shed their blood,
And many found a grave, dad, beneath the Flanders mud.

You never say a word, dad, about this awful fight;
Where is your trusty sword, dad? let's get it out tonight.
The other fellows brag, dad, of what their dads have done,
And Jim's dad has a flag, dad, he captured from a Hun.

And Mr. Sandy Ross, dad, who works down at the mill,
Has a Victoria Cross, dad, for fighting Kaiser Bill;
And little Tommy Dagg, dad, the youngest of your clerks,
Says his dad was at Bagdad, and shot a hundred Turks.

When we go for a walk, dad, or take our flying car,
You never want to talk, dad, about the mighty war;
Please talk to me tonight, dad, before I go to bed,
Of when you went to fight, dad."

But dad hung down his head.

BLASTED HOPES

We hoped to end our troubled days
Far from the maddening strife,
Erstwhile to chortle roundelays
Of peaceful country life;
But now the phone rings night and morn,
The trolleys crash and bang;
We hear the fearsome auto horn
Where once the thrushes sang.

We hoped the childr