War Rhymes by Wayfarer Part 4

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 children that we raised, Those stalwart girls and boys; Would follow in the trail we blazed That selfish ease destroys; But now, when men are needed so To fight the mailed fist, Our girls won't let their husbands go, Nor will our sons enlist.

We hoped the pirates all were dead, Those horrid buccaneers, Who dyed the ocean's waves with red, In wicked bygone years: But now we mourn, as happy days, That sanguinary past, Since Kaiser Bill a hundred ways, Has Captain Kidd outcla.s.sed.

We hoped that kings had wiser grown Since Charles I. lost his head, And Bonaparte was overthrown, For painting Europe red; But now we have the greatest kill Since cave men fought with stones.

Behold the Kaiser's butcher bill!

Ten million dead men's bones.

LANGEMARK

May, 1915

The maple leaf is stained with red, Deeper than autumn's dye; On foreign fields our n.o.ble dead Their valor testify.

Cut off, out-numbered, ten to one, By wolfish German pack Our men like heroes fought and won, They kept the Teutons back.

They held their post, they saved the day, Those young lions from the West; What higher tribute can we pay, "They fought like Britain's best."

When reinforcements came at last, Then woe betide the Huns, From man to man the word was pa.s.sed "We must retake the guns."

Mid rifle ball and poison bomb, Shrapnel and shrieking sh.e.l.l, And all the h.e.l.l of Kaiserdom, They charged, while hundreds fell.

With fearless eye and ringing cheer They made that wild advance, For life was cheap and glory dear, Those b.l.o.o.d.y days in France.

O, life is short to him who gives Long years for selfish pay; In righteous cause, the soldier lives A lifetime in a day.

THE CANADIAN ARMY

The news, "the Old Land's in it,"

Stirred us one August morn, Then waited not a minute The fearless British born.

They were the first to offer To die for England's name Scorning the s.h.i.+rking scoffer, Who would not play the game.

But when the German Kaiser Of victories could brag, Canadians got wiser And rallied round the flag.

The Orangemen, stout-hearted, The cheery lads in green, When once the ball was started In khaki garb were seen.

A regiment of Tories, A regiment of Grits, Discarded party worries To give the Kaiser fits.

Battalions of free thinkers and regiments of Jews And some of water drinkers, And some that hit the booze.

A regiment of Chinese, A regiment of Yanks, A regiment with fine knees And bare and brawny shanks, A regiment of teachers Who laid aside the birch, And one of sons of preachers, A credit to the Church.

A regiment of Colonels, Who couldn't get a sit, (To judge by their externals They're feeling fine and fit); A regiment of slackers, A regiment of thieves, And one of bold bushwhackers, All wearing maple leaves.

Battalions, too, of Frenchmen, The breed that never yields, Are making splendid trench men, On Belgium's b.l.o.o.d.y fields.

Battalions from the prairies Now man the smoking tubes; From London and St. Marys, A regiment of rubes.

Thus, to defend the nation, They rallied to a man, Our fighting population So cosmopolitan.

Not one from danger blenches, They vie in skill and pluck And when they reach the trenches, We call them all Canuck.

FIGHT OR PAY

October, 1915

The cause of Freedom needs our help, The Old Land's in the fray, It's up to every lion's whelp To either fight or pay.

The b.l.o.o.d.y Turk and savage Hun Still ravish, burn and slay, Each loyal son must man a gun, Or stay at home and pay.

Our sisters, mothers, sweethearts, wives, They nurse, and knit, and pray, Let men forego their selfish lives, And either fight or pay.

The call is clear to sacrifice Our life, our purse, our play; Ere Honor dies, let us arise And either fight or pay.

"England expects from every man His duty on this day."

'Twas thus Lord Nelson's message ran Ere he began the fray.

Shall we our n.o.ble heritage, See crumbling down like clay, This goodly age, a blotted page, And neither fight nor pay?

Nay! While our British blood runs red, Let those refuse who may, We'll heed what mighty Nelson said On old Trafalgar day, From cottage, castle, palace, hall, We'll come without delay, At duty's call, and stake our all, To fight, or pay, or pray.

=Rhymes For Children=

HUNTING THE WERE-WOLF

The jungle law is broken; From forest, field and plain, The beasts and birds have spoken, "The traitor must be slain,"

The surly bear comes growling, From out his lonesome den; He hears the were-wolf howling, Athirst for blood of men.

The fierce war eagle screeches Across the Channel deep, His scream the lion reaches And rouses him from sleep; The busy beaver hiding In far off northern wood, The mighty bull moose, striding In stately solitude.

The humpy, b.u.mpy cattle, The tiger from his lair, Go down into the battle Beside the timid hare.