cks taste like wood."
And so he growls through all the day,
And fills his comrades with dismay;
They'd kill him if they could.
When "First Call" wakes up Billy Lott,
He sits upon his Army cot,
And whistles "Casey Jones,"
And as he jumps into his shoes,
He says, "By Jinks I've had a snooze
That's good for skin and bones."
And Billy always has a smile
That you can see for half a mile,
And when he stops to say, 'How Do!'
He chases dimples to your cheeks
That stay there for a couple of weeks,
And he makes you happy too.

WEANING TIME

(To A. W. D.)

Mothers, O, ye mothers of the land!
With broods of sisters, brothers--hand in hand--
'Tis weaning time. Clip ye the thread
That apron-strings the lad! Give him his head!
Pluck from your teat the clinging lip
That should be tight with valor's grip!
"You were my child-in-arms," she said;
"Suckled I you, and gave you bed;
But now you are my man, my son.
For battle lost or battle won,
Go, find your captain; take your gun,
To stand with France against the Hun!
Reck not that tears might wet your crib;
Nor fear my fondling of the bib
You wore--when you are gone.
Your mother will not be alone;
Her love-mate will be Duty Done:
Her nights will kiss that midnight sun.
If tears? They will be tears of Joy,
For having milked a man, my boy.
Farewell and live, heart of my heart.
God steel my soul! I bid you start!
He goes!
God knows
I idol him. And may no backward glance
Unheart me now. To France! To France!
Fair France of La Fayette's romance.
My man-in-arms advance, advance!
Take down your grand-sire's crimsoned lance!
For man-wide Freedom and for France!"

"HANDS ACROSS THE SEA"

We're off for France to make "Fritz" dance
To the tune of shot and shell.
We'll march right in to old Berlin,
And give the Kaiser hell.

The French are right--they'll hold the fight,
And British "drives" are fine;
But Pershing's boys will find but toys
In the "Hindenberger" Line.

We leave hearts dear--the coast we clear
For the ocean's wide expanse.
A submarine on the ocean seen
Will have but little chance.

The cause is just--yet more we trust--
For the Honor debt we owe
Can ne'er be paid. 'Twas the timely aid
Of the Frenchman long ago.

For Lafayette is with us yet,
Still held in memory dear.
Our hearts no