hey succor the men who fall.

GARRISON LIFE

I want to go home, wailed the private,
The sergeant and corporal the same,
For I'm tired of the camp and the hikin',
The grub and the rest of the game.
I'm willing to do all the fightin',
For that is a game two can play;
But I want to go home, for me goil's all alone,
An' I want to go home to-day.

For I've marched 'til me throat was a-crackin',
'Til crazed for the want of a drink,
I've drilled 'til me back was a-breakin',
An' I haven't had time to think.
And I've had me share of policin',
And guard and I'm tired of me lay;
For me goil's all alone, an' I want to go home,
An' I want to go home to-day.

Do they heed us a-dying in garrison life?
They say it's the water and such,
We think that more apt it's the hikin',
For the life of a private ain't much;
But we know we can fight if we have to,
And they won't have to show us the way,
But me goil's all alone, an' I want to go home,
An' I want to go home to-day.

THE PHILIPPINITIS

My friend, have you heard of the town of Manila,
On the banks of the Pasig River,
Where blooms the wait-awhile flower fair,
And the "some time other" scents the air,
And the soft-go-easy grow?
It lies in the Valley of What's-the-use,
In the province of Let-her-slide.
That old tired feeling is native there,
It's the home of the listless I don't care.
Where the Put-it-off abide.

THE EAST IS A'CALLING

They say that the East is alluring;
The balmy green isles of the sea.
But with all their wild splendor assuring,
They have no fascination for me.

I camped with the boys at Siassi,
Way down in that sequestered isle,
Where the garb of a primitive lassie,
Was naught save a gee string and smile.

I hiked o'er the hog trails of Jolo,
In the blistering rays of the suns,
As the wild savage wielding his bolo,
Fell beneath the onslaught of our guns.

With a cartridge belt, rifle and knapsack,
I tramped through the wooded ravine,
On a ration of hard tack and bacon,
And a swig from a rusty canteen.

In Mindanao island so dreary,
From Malabang to Hawaiian hill,
Ever faithful though footsore and weary,
I shouldered my Krag for the drill.

On the outpost when night darkened o'er us
A lone vigil I kept through the rain,
And watched for the bloodthirsty Moros,
That prowled t