Classic Poem

I was born in old Kentucky
On George's Creek, they say;
My name is Laban Childers,
I'll be forty come next May.

I was young and craved adventure
When the great World War begun,
I volunteered for service,
When the first call came for men.

They called the boys from far and near,
Big Sandy did her part;
I left my plow a-standin',
And was mighty proud to start.

The Preston boys from Jenny's Creek,
Worked in the mines that day;
They laid their picks and shovels down,
And throwed their caps away.

They sent us to the training camp,
We did our best to please;
We shouldered up our muskets
And we hurried over seas.

My buddy, Martin Borders,
Was from Rock Castle Creek;
And his kinfolks fit the Red Coats,
Same as my great-grandpap Meeks.

A German shrapnel cut him down,
And when I saw him fall;
Hell busted loose inside of me,
I tried to kill 'em all.

He laid there in a pool of blood
His body crushed and bent,
I kept his face before me
And over the top I went.

At last our job was finished,
We sailed for home once more;
With many brave Big Sandy boys,
Left on the other shore.

We picked up plow and hoe again,
We paid our country's debt;
The Scripture says we must forgive,
But we never can forget.