Classic Poem

Sing us no song of the stripes an' the stars
Callin' us heroes an' such;
We are plumb sick of the music of wars,
Star spangled bannered too much.
Give us a hail
From the tote-road, the trail,
Up where the water's alive;
Give us Paul Bunyan, or some such a tale —
Sing us a song of the drive!

We aren't specially hymnin' our hate,
We aren't damnin' the Hun.
Let us forgit it, a while any rate,
Nix on the sword an' the gun.
Give us a song
As we're marchin' along,
Somethin' to lighten the tramp;
Give us a tune on the old dinner-gong —
Sing us a song of the camp!

When we go up to the guns of the foe,
Where there is dyin' to do,
Some other song we will warble, I know,
Never the red, white an' blue —
Chokin' a tear
For some girl who is dear
Over the hill an' the foam,
We will be lookin' right back over here.
Singin' some ditty of home.