_March 2d._ Fell out of my hammock last night and momentarily interrupted the snoring contest holding sway. I was told to "pipe down" in Irish, Yiddish, Third Avenue and Bronx. This, I thought, was adding insult to injury, but could not make any one take the same view of it. I hope the thing does not become a habit with me. I form habits so readily. In connection with snoring I have written the following song which I am going to send home to Polly. I wrote it in the Y.M.C.A. Hut this afternoon while crouching between the feet of two embattled checker players. I'm going to call it "The Rhyme of the Snoring Sailor." It goes like this: I The mother thinks of her sailor son As clutched in the arms of war, But mother should listen, as I have done, To this same little, innocent sailor son Sprawl in his hammock and snore. Oh, the sailor man is a rugged man, The master of wind and wave, And poets sing till the tea-rooms ring Of his picturesque, deep sea grave, And they likewise write of the "Storm at Night" When the numerous north winds roar, But more profound is the dismal sound Of a sea-going sailor's snore. II Oh, mothers knit for their sailor sons Socks for their nautical toes, But mothers should list to the frightful noise Made by their innocent sailor boys By the wind they blow through their nose. Oh, life at sea is wild and free And greatly to be admired, But I would sleep both sound and deep At night when I'm feeling tired. So here we go with a yo! ho! ho! While the waves and the tempests soar, An artist can paint a shrew as a saint, But not camouflage on a snore. III Oh, mothers, write to your sons at sea; Write to them, I implore, A letter as earnest as it can be, Containing a delicate, motherly plea, A plea for them not to snore. Oh, I take much pride in my trousers wide, The ladies all think them sweet, And I must admit that I love to sit In a chair and relieve my feet. Avast! Belay! and we're bound away With our hearts lashed fast to the fore, But when mermaids sleep In their bowers deep, Do you think that the sweet things snore? Our company commander spoke to us this morning in no uncertain terms. He seems to be such a serious man. There is a peculiar quality in his voice, not unlike the tone of a French 75 mm. gun. You can easily hear everything he says--miles away. We rested this afternoon.