Class _J. BooklEL Copyright N?_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. LYRIC LEAVES FROM A KHAKI NOTEBOOK BY VANCE C. CRISS Formerly of the 2$th Company, 20th Regiment Engineers (Forestry), A.E.F. BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS Copyright, 1920, by Vance C. Criss All Rights Reserved **& Made in the United States of America The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. ©CI.A570201 THERE IS BUT ONE PERSON TO WHOM A MAN SHOULD DEDICATE HIS FIRST VENTURE IN THE FIELD OF LITERARY ENDEAVOR. THEREFORE, AS SOME SLIGHT RECOGNITION OF ALL HER INTEREST, HER ENCOURAGEMENT, AND HER HOPES HAVE MEANT, THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED TO MY MOTHER FOREWORD It would be folly, indeed, to submit this little volume as an addition to the literature of poesy. There may be, however, an interest in the verses as sidelights on army experiences, from the stand- point of a man in the ranks. If, at times, the feet are clumsy and the meter awkward, pray recall that one may not easily woo the Muse amid the distractions of a barrack, the wearisome journey of a troop train, the discomforts of a rain-soaked tent, the annoyances of a barn-loft billet, or the revelry of a roadside cafe. And under such con- ditions, these verses were written. The first ten poems — if that term be not too dignified — were written in the States. The others were written in France, most of them among the Vosges moun- tains, not far from the boundary beyond which so recently beckoned the "lost Alsace." V. c. c. CONTENTS PAGE That Billboard Soldier Man n Forgotten Phrases 13 A Soldier's Boudoir Song 14 Petticoat Propaganda 15 The Moocher 16 Orderly O'Brien 17 The Guy Who Knows It All 19 The Lovelorn Rookie's Vow 21 In Quarantine 23 Back at the Old Sansone 25 In th' Engineers 27 Evening 29 Bas de Soie 3° Visions Of Home 32 Toujours le Meme 34 The Plaint of the Engineers 36 Avec Une Mademoiselle 37 Th' Hills O' Ole Missou 38 Telephone Tribulation 40 C'Est Ca 42 The Girl Over There 44 7 Contents PAGE The Camouflaged Q. M 46 Alabam 47 Missing 49 Just A Little Lace 50 The Eternal Question 51 Those Wooden Shoes 52 The Days Of Long Ago 53 The Roughneck 54 Blesse 55 The Opportunist 56 When the General Came To Town .... 57 Service Stripes 60 The Cause Of It All 61 They Went Up The Line With A Smile .... 63 The Battle of Brouvelieures 65 Ode to the "Burned Area" 67 The Landsman's Lament 66 Th' Sweetes' Gal 70 Le Grand Desir 71 LYRIC LEAVES FROM A KHAKI NOTEBOOK THAT BILLBOARD SOLDIER MAN I seen a billboard picture Ov a dressed-up soldier man, Who wuz lookin' 'bout ez purty Ez a swell-dressed feller can. He had on a suit o' khaki, An' it fit him jus' like fun; While acrost his brawny shoulders Wuz a dandy-lookin' gun. Oh, his heels wuz right t'gether, An' he stood up powerful straight; All th' gals'd go plumb crazy, If he'd ask 'em fer a date. On each side, Ole Glory wavin' Wuz a-floatin' mighty proud; An' in front a cannon firin' Seemed a-roarin' big an' loud. At th' bottom wuz some printin', Where it tol' about th' pay, An' th' chances fer t' travel, In th' countries fer away. ii Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook While I stood there jus' a-gazin', That big picture looked s' fine, That it sort o' made me wobbly — Like this fancy, fizzlin' wine. So I didn't wait much longer — An' it's mighty proud I am, That I'll soon be forward -marchin' In th' ranks ov Uncle Sam. 12 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook FORGOTTEN PHRASES Three words I used to know right well, And how to use them too; But in the army, truth to tell, I fear their day is through. They served me well in early days, When favors I must ask, And helped me on in countless ways, No matter what the task. But now I've cast all three aside, As needless waste of breath ; In army life I find they died A quick and painless death. Forgotten is the lesson learned So long ago, at Mother's knees; And yet quite often have I yearned To hear again "thank you" and "please." 13 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook A SOLDIER'S BOUDOIR SONG I'm learning to sleep as a soldier should, And rest between blankets I'm rinding quite good; And yet I must say, Without further delay, There are things I would change if I could. Some springs, without doubt, would help out quite a lot, Yet he who is weary will find, like as not, That Morpheus kind In slumber will bind The eyes of the man on a cot. And this you will find is no falsehood, indeed, For other bedclothing in vain you may plead ; Yet in truth be it said, Ere astray you are led, For an eiderdown pillow, there's truly no need. One garment, however, I'm still longing for, Tho' my bed be a cot, or a space on the floor; And no telling how glad I should be if I had The initialed pajamas I once proudly wore. H Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook PETTICOAT PROPAGANDA I reckon I ain't able T' take a single stitch ; An' honest, I ain't posted On petticoats an' sich. An' yet it was surprising A-readin' in y'ur note, That you was busy workin' On a shore-nuff petticoat. With Teddy-bears an' knickers, An' pettibockers, too, I 'lowed th' day o' petticoats Was just about clean through. Now surely you'll quit makin' That garment "out o' sight," — An' then, without delayin', Take time enough t' write. 15 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE MOOCHER His wants are many, His possessions are few; He hasn't a penny To pay his way through — The moocher. He hasn't the makings Of one cigarette; With him, it's all takings For all he can get — The moocher. He gets all his chewing The very same way, By constantly strewing His promise to pay — The moocher. Forever he's asking Whatever he wants; And always he's basking In decent men's haunts — The moocher. I hope by tomorrow He'll wear his last wreath, For trying to borrow My brush for his teeth — The moocher. 16 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook ORDERLY O'BRIEN Hold th' pace that you're a-goin', Ain't no chance at all o' slowin', 'Cause your stop'll shore be showin', An' th' captain, he'll be knowin', So it's speed — speed — speed — Is your need — need — need — Lyle O'Brien. Never take a chance on balkin', An' there ain't no time for gawkin', 'Cause th' cap'll keep you walkin', By his steady line o' talkin' — So it's go — go — go — Don't be slow — slow — slow — Lyle O'Brien. All th' jobs your way are fallin', But no chance at all o' stallin', 'Cause you'd get an awful callin' When th' captain started bawlin', So it's hike — hike — hike — Never pike— pike — pike — Lyle O'Brien. On your trail th' bunch is lurkin', For a chance t' catch you shirkin'; 17 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook An' it's you they'll be a-jerkin' 'Fore th' captain for not workin', So it's hep — hep — hep — With th' pep — pep — pep — Lyle O'Brien. Oh, you never can be lazy But your mind is gettin' hazy; If you don't turn up plumb crazy, You're a ring-tail roarin' daisy — Better pray — pray — pray — On your way — way — way — Lyle O'Brien. 18 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE GUY WHO KNOWS IT ALL No matter what you talk about, From science down to pains of gout, On subjects light or subjects deep, If you're awake or you're asleep, You want to cry or want to smile, You'll find him talking all the while. On sacred themes he's posted well; And all you ask, he'll gladly tell, Of faults he finds in all the creeds, Or talk at length on social needs, Convinced his efforts surely show There's not a fact he doesn't know. Or if the theme be statesmanship, A ready answer's on his lip, Explaining why each leader proves A bungler in all statecraft moves; From low to high, each one he grills, Tells how he'd cure the nation's ills. Discussing war, he's sure some bear; Of ev'ry move he's quite aware, Knows where each army is right now, Just what it's doing in the row; Each point he takes, he'll loud defend, From cause of war to date of end. 19 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook His tongue is always on the go; He's bound to be the whole blamed show, And naught but death can ever balk His one desire for constant talk. How DID he hear his country's call, When never known to listen at all? 20 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE LOVELORN ROOKIE'S VOW I 'lowed she'd feel right proud-like, When she heerd I'd gone t' war, So I writ her quite a letter, Tellin' that — an' then some more. Then I started in a-longin', An' a-waitin' her reply; But they warn't no answer comin', While th' days went creepin' by. By an' by I give up hopin', Feelin' shore she'd turned me down, When at last there come her letter From that little ole home town. But it warn't no love epissel, From a tender throbbin' heart, What'd start me in a-sighin' 'Cause th' war clouds made us part. She jus' 'lowed she'd been right busy, With her cookin' work an' sich — An' expressed a hope I'd finish This here war without a hitch. 21 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook When I got plumb through a-readin', I was shore a-feelin* blue; An' it left me mighty doubtful On decidin' what t' do. But my mind is now plumb settled, An' I'll be a hero shore; Then she'll want me fer a lover — But they ain't no chance no more. 22 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook IN QUARANTINE The ambulance stopped at our own barracks' door, And out went the buddy the wagon came for, Without any scene. A bad case of measles, the doctor had said, And forthwith he places the whole blooming shed In quarantine. No more did we live in the land of the free, For we were cooped up just as close as could be; The fat and the lean Were herded together within the four walls, With no going out or receiving of calls, In quarantine. To the mess hall the crowd of us marched in a bunch, And together returned when we'd finished our lunch Of beefstew and bean; The whole of us placed on the same blooming terms, And shunned by the others as dangerous germs, In quarantine. In a few magazines, and each one of them old, We read all the stories of heroes quite bold; Or tried to keep clean 23 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Each piece of our clothing so constantly worn, Until the whole outfit was tattered and torn, In quarantine. No time such as this was can ever be brief, When the days drag so slowly and bring no relief; Quite true is it seen That the hope was expressed, by each one of the men, That never a one should be caught thus again, In quarantine. 24 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook BACK AT THE OLD SANSONE Again I entered "Charley's," And sat at a table there; A waiter smiled his greeting, And gave me the bill of fare. I ordered oyster cocktail, But that was just a start, For one should order slowly, If eating be an art. A consomme delicious, I felt I ought to take; And then with hungry vision, Wrote next a "sirloin steak." Then came some mashed potatoes, A bit of apple sauce; But not a bean I ordered, Nor felt the slightest loss. On further careful reading, There came beneath my eye A line that brought new pleasure, The three words, "hot mince pie." 25 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook The item last selected, You'll guess as like as not — Some "real and truly" coffee, And not a cup, but pot. The food was soon before me, And Gee, it was a treat; But ere I'd had a mouthful, I leapt upon my feet. A voice quite close beside me Yelled out in anger deep, "Well, what in hell's the matter! Lie down and let me sleep." Upon this cry so startling, There vanished all my "chow" ; That order was a nightmare — I'm in the army now. 26 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook IN TH' ENGINEERS (Reprinted from Stars and Stripes) If it's work y'u would be doin' — Such as ties in need o' hewin' — Till y'ur back is just one ruin, Join th' Engineers. Fall th' trees an' get from under, Chute th' logs without a blunder, Work th' whole day jus' like thunder, In th' Engineers. Work like hell a-diggin' ditches, Layin' track or settin' switches, (An' y'ur pay sure ain't no riches), In th' Engineers. Even when th' rain is pourin', An' y'u hear th' big guns roarin', Jus' go right on with y'ur chorin', In th' Engineers. If y'u hear th' motor hummin', On a Boche plane that is comin', Don't stop work for fear o' bombin', In th' Engineers. 27 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Night time comes, an' things that's creepy, In a tent that's sort o' seepy, Ain't no bother, y'u're so sleepy, In th' Engineers. Sometimes, too, y'u may be driven, When th' best y'u've got, y'u're givin'- Still, th' life is sure worth livin', In th' Engineers. 28 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook EVENING The long day draws to a gloomy close, With a fog enshrouded sky; And the banks of heavy, cheerless clouds, On the beech-clad summits lie. The winding road, at the mountain's foot, Is lifeless in the rain, Save where yon peasant slowly plods, Beside his ox-drawn wain. From lowly cot across the vale, A candle's feeble ray Would cheer the weary wanderer — But home is far away. 29 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook BAS DE SOIE I'm sending, Not lending, This present to you; For wearing, Not tearing, I hope they will do. With gladness, Not madness, I trust you'll receive As pleasant, This present, Tho' sent without leave. No stocking Is shocking, If kept out of sight; And truly You'll duly Conduct yourself right. Bestowing, Not knowing, Quite taxes one's wit; Yet clearly Sincerely, I trust they will fit. 30 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Believe me, Don't grieve me For taking this chance. Don't tear 'em, But wear 'em — These stockings from France. 31 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook VISIONS OF HOME When th' rain jus' keeps a-fallin' From a sky that's dreary gray, A feller can't help thinkin', In a longin' sort o' way, O' th' home folks 'cross th' ocean, In th' good ol' U. S. A. On th' walls o' Fancy painted, There's a picture he can see, O' loved ones there a-prayin', With a deep an' heartfelt plea, That he'll soon be comin' back there, T' th' place he'd like t' be. He can see his daddy settin' In that same ol' rockin' chair, A-readin' in th' papers 'Bout th' soldiers "over there," An' a-trustin' that his boy Won't fergit t' do his share. An' his sister still is knittin' — She commenced when war begun — An' a-workin' always gladly At a task that can't be done Till th' boys come sailin' homeward, After victory is won. 32 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook At a desk, his mother's writin' T' th' lad she holds so dear, An' in lines that may be trembly From th' mingled hope an' fear; An' some sentences is ended With no period but a tear. When at last th' scene has faded, An' th' dream o' home is through, He fergits that he was homesick, Since th' home folks want him true T' th' land for which he's fightin' — An' th' ol' Red, White an' Blue. 33 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook TOUJOURS LE MEME (Reprinted from Stars and Stripes and Yanks) No matter how wise or how foolish The company's cook may be, When down at the table we're seated Two things we all plainly can see; When we look at the chow, There's the bosom of sow, And beans — beans — beans. If quartered in city or country, The cook never misses his aim; If messing in swamp or on mountain, Two things will remain quite the same; Tho' it may cause a row, We get bosom of sow, And beans — beans — beans. When tasks for the day are all ended, And weary are body and brain, Small matter it makes if we're eating Indoors or outside in the rain ; The cook makes his bow With the bosom of sow, And beans — beans — beans. 34 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Of all that I've learned in the army, This fact I am sure I know well— And others are certain to tell you — A soldier's worst picture of hell Is thrice daily chow With the bosom of sow, And beans — beans — beans. 15 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE PLAINT OF THE ENGINEERS I shorely ain't much ov a soldier, Er else they would give me a gun — Instead ov a pick an' a shovel — Fer fightin' agin th' durn Hun. I'll ovvn that it shore is some safer, Plumb back from that hell-scrappin' line; An' yet, jus' a-thinkin' o' safety, T' me don't appear very fine. There's no chanct at all t' git medals, That'll shine mighty bright on y'ur breast, When once y'u git back t' th' Homeland, An' settle right down fer a rest. An' even th' bloomin' ol' papers Ain't showin' no picters o' us — In some ways, we might ez well be A thousand o' miles from th' fuss. An' yet I jus' can't help a-thinkin' O' what in th' devil we'd do, If ever th' durn line busted — An' th' damnable Boches got through. 36 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook AVEC UNE MADEMOISELLE Say, kid, you're a pippin, And you look darn good to me. How in thunder do you say it? Oh, yes, Vous etes tres jolie. Darn the luck, I wish to thunder I knew how to parlez-vous ; I'd sure tell you what I'm thinking — Gosh, I'll try it. Je vous aime beaucoup. Gee, I'd like to hug you. What ! You comprends pas? I'm the guy that sure can show you, Just like this — comme ca. What's that lingo you are saying? Would I like — what — de vous voir? What in thunder ? — Now I get you — Sure I'll see you here ce soir. What the devil should I call you — Chere amie and ma petite? I'll find out before this evening, And you hurry back toute suite. Wait a minute! I'm forgetting — Donnez-moi just one baiser. Pas compris? Tonight I'll show you In the good old Yankee way. 37 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook TH' HILLS O' OLE MISSOU I'll own them hills is rocky, An' th' valleys ain't s' wide; An' sometimes they're s' barren That a rabbit couldn't hide; Nor y'u couldn't raise no trouble On ten acres, if y'u tried. They ain't no Roman soldiers Ever marched along them trails ; They ain't no chateaus fancy, What is built among them vales; An' Charlemagne ain't heerd of, In their fireside huntin' tales. They ain't no roadside crosses, Jus' a-standin' thar alone, What wuz put up by some sinner, Who wuz seekin' t' atone; An' they shorely ain't no houses Fancy roofed, an' built o' stone. Yet they's somethin' that's appealin' In them ole rock-covered hills, Whar they's happiness an' sunshine, What'll drive away your ills ; An' th' birds is singin' sweetly, T' th' ripplin' o* th' rills. 38 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Whar th' pearls jus' dot th' hillsides, When th' sun shines on th' dew; Whar th' cabin doors is open, An' th' hearts o' all is true — Oh, it's thar I hear a callin', T th' hills o' ole Missou. 39 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook TELEPHONE TRIBULATION There goes that doggone 'phone again! I hate to hear that dam bell ring. Why the devil should I answer? I won't understand a thing. Hello! Hello! What in thunder? Hold on! I can't parley frog; I'm as lost as any stranger In a blooming London fog. For heaven's sake, talk slower! Ne parlez pas si vite! Hello ! Yes. — Engineers — They've cut us off, by holy Pete. Hold on, M'sieu, pas fini! Damn you, man, ne coupez pas! You've got a truck turned over? Pas fini! Ou-la-lah. Cut off again, I reckon. — You had three piling on? She slid?— Hello! Hello! Gee whiz, this line's pas bon. 40 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Hello! Yes, we can help you. It's better if you meet — Oh, hell yes, by the culvert — Get off that line toute suite. Two trucks can surely pull you. Yes — yes — I know the place. Hello! Oh, hell! Damnation! Yes — yes — we'll send a brace. Oui, oui, M'sieu, I'm fini — And damn such a song and dance. I'd rather spend an hour in hell, Than telephone in France. 41 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook C'EST CA When th' bugle busts th' silence, An' y'u're feelin' mighty sour, 'Cause y'u've got t' quit y'ur sleepin' At a darned unearthly hour — C'est la guerre. When th' brekfus tastes like hades- An' it ain't th' only one — With th' spuds s' doggone soapy, An' th' bacon not half done — Cest la guerre. When ol' France fergits she's sunny, An' th' rain comes pourin' down, An' y'u keep right on a-workin', Though y'u're scared t' death y'u'll drown- C'est la guerre. When th' workin' day is ended, An' y'u drink vin rouge beaucoup, Till th' whole durn world looks level, An' there's nothin' y'u can't do — Cest la guerre. 42 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook When y'u stumble t' y'ur billet, An' y'u tell th' gang y'u're lit ; When y'u waller in y'ur blanket, An' th' cooties do their bit — Cest la guerre. An' th' doggone mornin' after, When y'u stagger from y'ur bed, With a taste that's worse than thunder, An' a damn bad achin' head — Cest la guerre. 43 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE GIRL OVER THERE (Reprinted from Stars and Stripes) Let the glasses be filled With the rich sparkling wine, The blood of the grape And the soul of the vine; And quaff a rich draught Of the nectar divine; — To the fairest of fair, To the Girl Over There, A toast in the vin rouge of France. I would travel afoot Weary mile upon mile, If the end of the road Would but lead me erewhile To the land of my dreams, In the light of her smile — To the fairest of fair, To the Girl Over There, A toast in the vin rouge of France. Tho' far, far away, Still inspired by Love's ties, There is gleaming tonight, In the depths of her eyes, The bright Light o' Love, 44 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook That for me never dies — To the fairest of fair, To the Girl Over There, A toast in the vin rouge of France. Ah, much would I give For a glimpse of her face ; But better bv far, Would but Fate have the grace, Were a lingering kiss, In a lasting embrace — To the fairest of fair, To the Girl Over There, A toast in the vin rouge of France. Tho' the sea rolls between, My heart still is light, For the bright Star o' Love Can but lead me aright To the Garden of Love, But a vision tonight — To the fairest of fair, To the Girl Over There, A toast in the vin rouge of France. 45 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE CAMOUFLAGED Q. M. Down the walk he sauntered slowly, Like a lord of many lands ; And his bearing wasn't lowly — Surely fate was in his hands. In his uniform expensive, That some fancy tailor made, He was never apprehensive In the swellest dress parade. Oh, he surely was a dandy, From his shiney "puts" to cap; And he knew he was the candy — Nor for others gave a rap. As he slowly swaggered vainly, And I sought to count the stars, I was peeved to see quite plainly That he hadn't even bars. Then I gazed again in wonder, Could do nothing but believe, For I surely made no blunder — Not a chevron on his sleeve. As a dude he took the pennant, As a four flush made high score — He was just a third lieutenant In the Quarter Master Corps. 46 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook ALABAM Soljah, somehow Ah ain't feelin' Jes as well's Ah ought t'day — Dey's shoh somethin' dat's appealin' In a town down Mobile way. No, sah, Ah ain't off on feedin', Tho' dey's some things Ah'd shoh like; But it ain't what Ah'm a-needin', Dat dey's any chance t' strike. You-all knows Ah ain't a-kickin', But Ah'd shohly like t' go Back dah whah dey's cotton pickin', An' dem watahmelons grow. Whah de cabin doah is open, An' dey's fryin' chickens, too, Ef y'u knows jes whah y'u's gropin' — An' ezzackly what t' do. Whah dey's lots o' juicy peaches, An' dem honey locus' trees Has a puhfume what shoh reaches All de valley on de breeze. 47 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Whah mah mammy is a-settin' In de sun befoah de doah ; An' Ah reckon she's a-frettin' 'Bout me goin' off t' wah. But look heah now, Ah ain't whinin', 'Cause Ah'm heah foh Uncle Sam ; Reckon 's how Ah'm jes a-pinin' — Soht o' sick foh Alabam. 48 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook MISSING He was not severely wounded, Tho' he had some cause to grieve, Since, reported in the missing, Was the chevron on his sleeve. It was not in fighting Germans That brought trouble as his lot; And the men who battled with him Said he only got half shot. But he proved himself too careless, And forgot to camouflage, When he started going forward In a wild champagne barrage. 49 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook JUST A LITTLE LACE This little gift, from far-off France, Will serve, I trust, to let you know That, spite of Father Time's advance, Fond memories ever fonder grow. Just what it's for, I cannot say, For what I know of such is slight; Perhaps to all you may display Its use — perhaps keep out of sight. Now, pray, don't think I'm getting swift, For this, at least, you must allow, Whate'er is done with such a gift, I've ne'er a chance of seeing — Now. 50 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE ETERNAL QUESTION (Reprinted from Stars and Stripes) I ain't much worried 'bout them Boche, An' worry less about them Turks; An' th' Austrians ain't a-doin' much, A-judgin' by their works. I 'low from readin' papers, Seein' what them rulers say, They're gettin' tired o' fightin', An' we'll all have peace some day. Nor I ain't a-feelin' sorry 'Cause I've lost a blame good pal ; An' my heart ain't had no crackin' Jus' because o' some durn gal. An' th' ol' high cost o' livin' Never troubles me no more; An' I ain't begun t' worry 'Bout some job at th' close o' war. But they is one pesky question That is always puzzlin' me; An' they ain't no use in tryin', I kaint make it leave me be. An' th' doggone cause o' trouble That is bringin' all this wail Don't take very long in statin' — Where in Hell Is All Our Mail? 5i Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THOSE WOODEN SHOES When the hours of school are ended And the kids are homeward bound, There's a noise that breaks the silence, And the village streets resound To the klop — klop — klop of wooden shoes. When the bulletin is posted And the Frenchmen haste to read, You may know there's something doing, For you hear them as they speed, With the klop — klop — klop of wooden shoes. When the peasants' day is over And they plod along the street, You may know the fields are vacant, By the tramp of many feet In the klop — klop — klop of wooden shoes. Well I know that in the future, When I've gone far, far away, In my dreams I'll hear a thumping Just as plainly as today — It's the klop — klop — klop of wooden shoes. 52 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE DAYS OF LONG AGO Only a thought at eventide, In the warm fire's sprightly glow, When memories gather, quick to guide To the days of long ago. By fancy led, I stray once more Where fragrant wild flowers bloom; Or hear the water babble o'er The stones in a cavern's gloom ; Or see the mountains, red and gold, When all the forests, gaily grand, Are decked in flaming colors bold, By lavish autumn's magic hand; Or live again each joyous hour, When fairy haunted night Has cast, with subtle power, A charm that lingers bright. How oft, indeed, those olden days The heart would fain recall, When memory, in countless ways, Her lustre sheds o'er all. 53 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE ROUGHNECK His manner was not at all polished; Full rough as the roughest, his way ; There wasn't a game with the pasteboards He didn't know how to play; And words with the smell of brimstone Seemed all that he knew how to say. His craving was deep for tobacco ; He'd take any kind he could get, And ask for a chew from the captain, Or anyone else that he met; And counted his time as wasted, If lacking a cigarette. His thirst was a thirst appalling; His highest ideas of fun Were hours all spent in drinking, From setting to rising of sun, When somehow he got to his billet, As drunk as a son-of-a-gun. Oh, he was a regular roughneck, Nor cared for Society's ban ; But he rushed to the thick of the fighting, The moment the battle began, And fought all the way like a hero — Then went to his death like a man. 54 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook BLESSE Gazing down the coming years With the foresight of the seers, I can see him slowly totter down the street ; Pitiful, I watch him go, And his back is bending low, While each step he takes is made with weary feet. "Sir," said I, "I'd like to ask By what great, heroic task You have earned the row of medals on your breast. And the scars upon your face — Tell me, is it not the case? — Are the marks that you have won in battle's test?" And at once he quickly said, As he proudly raised his head, "All the medals and the scars at which you glance Are the proofs I have to show Anyone who wants to know, That a village barber shaved me once in France." 55 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE OPPORTUNIST Ma 'lows I'm shore a sinner, An' they ain't no chanct fer me; She says I'm bound fer Satan, Jest ez straight ez straight kin be. Perhaps I ain't a Christyun, Fer thinkin' like I do, When people's sick an' dyin', On account o' Spanish flu. But I 'low they ain't nobody Who's thinkin' I'm t' blame; Ma says they ain't no knowin' how This eppydemic came. I shore ain't wrong in sayin', "If this trouble's got t' come, An' it's bringin' me some pleasure, What's th' use o' actin' glum?" They's one thing mighty certain, I ain't nobody's fool, T' go around a-poutin' — When we ain't a-havin' school. 56 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook WHEN THE GENERAL CAME TO TOWN (Reprinted from Stars and Stripes and Yanks) We wuz workin' in th' offus — That is, all exceptin' me — An' I wuz jest a-settin', As a orderly should be, When a feller wearin' eagles Perchin' on his shoulder straps, Poked his head right in th' winder, An' he talks right out an' snaps, "Who's th' officer commandin' Over this detachment here?" An' th' looey he salutes him, While us rest wuz feelin' queer. "I am, sir," th' looey tells him, Wonderin' what th' row's about. "Pershing's comin' in five minnits," Sez th' kernel; "All troops out." Gosh, how we did hurry, Fer we looked a doggone fright ; Some had hats a-missin', An' they warn't a coat in sight. 57 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook First, we cleaned up in th' offus; Then we swep' up in th' street, An' it warn't s' many seconds, Till th' place wuz hard t' beat. Next we hunted up our clothin', Borried some, an' swiped some more; Then th' looey got us standin' In a line afore th' door. Mighty soon around th' corner Come two scrumtious-lookin' cars; An' they wuzn't any license On th' first one — 'cept four stars. When th' cars had stopped right sudden, Then th' gineral he stepped out; An' without much parley-vooin', He begun t' look about. They wuz lots o' darkey soldiers What wuz lined up in a row, An' he shore looked at 'em careful, Walkin' past 'em mighty slow. An' th' Frenchmen come a-flockin', An' they couldn't understand Why he warn't a-wearin' medals — An' gold braid t' beat th' band. 58 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Then he give a little lecshur, Givin' all them Frenchmen thanks, Since they'd acted mighty kind-like In a-dealin' with his Yanks. All th' peepul started clappin', When his talk come to a close; An' a purty little lassie Offered him a dandy rose. Shore he tuk it, smilin' pleasant, Like a gift he couldn't miss — An' th' little maid wuz happy, When he paid her with a kiss. Then he stepped into his auto, An' he hurried on his way — While us guys went back t' workin', Feelin' we had had SOME day. 59 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook SERVICE STRIPES We have answered the nation's summons, We have smiled on the U-boats' threat, We have fought and have worked for a pittance, And have laughed at the troubles met. It was not for an idle glory, It was not in the hope of gain, That we offered ourselves to our country, And gave of our brawn and brain. In the cause of an outraged justice, We have stood through the fiery test; We can face all the world without flinching, To say — "We have given our best." Then give us the mark we were promised — Tho' croakers there are who declare The award of a stripe that is golden, For service in France is unfair. 60 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE CAUSE OF IT ALL Lesh have anuzzher little drink- I'm gonna git full azh shin. Sthep lively, there — hie— -kiddo, Wizh one more leet o' vin. I wish I had shome whishky, Er shompshin wizh a kick; I'm gonna git plumb hoary-eyed, An' gonna git there quick. If I wazh in zhe trenches, Perhapsh I'd — hie — git shot; Zhere ain't no ushe in livin' — I'd razzher die zhan not. I come t' do my duty; Zhash more zhan I can shay Fer shome o' zhem durn cushes, Zhat sthayed in zhe U. Esh A. I 'low I shore did pity Zhe gal I lef ' behin' ; She cried sho mush at partin', I thought she'd shore go blin'. 61 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook She jesh kep' on repeatin' How faithful she'd shore be; An' never love no uzzhers, While waitin' — hie — fer me. But she wuzh only lyin', Eash shingle word she shaid; She's made my life a r-ruin — I'd jesh azh shoon be dead. T'day, I got a lehrer, Zhat tol' me how she lied; She never kep' her promishe — She's jesh a schlacker's bride. 62 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THEY WENT UP THE LINE WITH A SMILE 'Twas little the village looked like France, For there came a ragtime band ; And the old world streets were crowded With darkeys from Dixie land. The music was quickly started, But only one piece was through, When the pilot car of a camion train Whirled 'round the turn into view. With the love of his race for music, The driver slowed up his machine; And a voice from the camion shouted, "Looky heah, man, whah d' y'u mean? We ah goin' right up t' dem trenches, So take up yoh hohns, now, an' blow; Foh some of us won't be rethunin' — An' give us a tune as we go." The instruments all were lifted, There wasn't a moment to lose; The leader knew just what was wanted, And started the "Memphis Blues." 63 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Perhaps it wasn't a classic, But the notes had a stirring swing; And the shouts of the passing soldiers Made the streets of the village ring. And as long as the train was passing, Not once did the music lag; For the boys were going to battle, And they wanted a Dixie "rag." And those of us saw who stood by the road, And watched as they passed the while, That never a man in the camion train But went "up the line" with a smile. 64 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE BATTLE OF BROUVELIEURES Against the enemy we marched, A goodly hundred strong; Of danger not at all we recked, But made our way with song; And little cared, altho' we knew The fight be fierce and long. On every side our comrades fell, But still we fought and sang; Nor felt for those who passed away, The slightest sorrow's pang, As o'er the din of conflict fierce Our cheery voices rang. Far in the night the battle raged, But still our hope was high, For from each dauntless warrior rose A clear-toned battle cry, That spurred each struggling hero there To win the fight — or die. But when at last the struggle closed, We knew our hope was vain; About the field, our hundred lay, The wounded and the slain, Who gave their all to beat the foe, Yet found they made no gain. 65 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook And when the silence reigned supreme, Where once was battle's din, The living realized full well They ne'er could hope to win The old, old struggle man has waged— The battle of the "vin." 66 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook ODE TO THE "BURNED AREA" (Some two months after the signing of the armistice, several units of Forestry troops were moved from their camps in the Eastern Vosges to what was known as the "Burned Area," in the Department of Landes, some little distance south of Bordeaux and near the village of Pontenx les Forges. Just why this stand of fire-swept timber, with its remarkably light yield of low-grade lum- ber, deserved so much attention by American For- estry Engineers probably will remain one of the mysteries of the war. That the American soldiers stationed in the "Burned Area" were thoroughly disgusted with the whole affair was neither mys- terious nor unnatural.) Miles upon miles of dreary sand, With the curse of God on the wretched land; Cold as the poles in the cheerless night, And Satan's own when the sun shines bright; A land disdained since time began — And a hell of a place to send a man. Thousands on thousands of stagnant pools, A waste forlorn — nor ghosts nor ghouls, Who wander accurst in lonely ways, 6 7 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook Would stoop so low as to spend their days In a spot that bore the devil's ban — And a hell of a place to send a man. Life with its strength has left no sign, Save the stunted growth of blackened pine, A witness mute of the struggle lost, When destruction raged, and Life paid the cost; A land unknown in the Deity's plan — And a hell of a place to send a man. Satan himself has surely sworn That hell itself is less forlorn, And a better place to spend one's time Than in pine and sand and pools of slime, Too foul for even the kaiser's clan — And a hell of a place to send a man. 68 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook THE LANDSMAN'S LAMENT Now that the warring nations Have lain aside their arms, And the weary world is silenced From the shock of war's alarms, There comes a thought of gladness, That soon again we'll be In the well-beloved homeland, Far across the rolling sea. Yet the thought of our departure, Tho' so roseate be its hue, Is not one alone of pleasure, For it has its sadness, too. In the symphony of gladness, There is still a mournful note; We must cross the broad Atlantic — And we dread the trip by boat. 69 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook TH' SWEETES' GAL Th' gals o' France is purty, An' some fellers lose their hearts; But it ain't fer them I'm pinin', Fer they ain't no Cupid's darts, What has caused my heart t' flutter Fer a gal in these here parts. An' th' gals back home is lovely, Which is shorely mighty fine; But th' fact o' all their beauty Ain't th' smallest bit o' sign That they's one o' them a-longin' Jes t' hear me call her mine. But they shore is one fine lady, Jes as fine as fine kin be, An' th' sweetes' female critter That I ever hope t' see — Oh, it's New York way she's callin', An' her name's "Miss Libertee/' 70 Lyric Leaves from a Khaki Notebook LE GRAND DESIR Of all the blessings Peace may bring, 'Tis not the great I crave; I have no slightest wish to be A vaunting, selfish knave. Let others wish for greater wealth, Or farms presented free; A life content, as once I knew, Is good enough for me. I ask no city's great acclaim, So many highly prize; Nor proudest place in great parade, The envy of all eyes. Nor care I e'en in faint degree, For Civil Service task, Tho' there I might, with little toil, In chieftain's favor bask. Of all the blessings Peace may bring, For this alone I care — Oh, give me back again at once The pants I used to wear. 71