Things you ain’t even thought of For a couple o’ months or more; Things that ’ull set you laughin’; Things that ’ull make you sore; Things that you saw in the movies, Things that you saw on the street, Things that you’re really proud of, Things that are—not so sweet. Debts that are past collection, Stories you hear and forget, Ball games and birthday parties, Hours of drill in the wet; Headlines, recruitin’ posters, Sunsets way out at sea, Evenings of pay days—golly— It’s a queer thing, this memory! Faces of pals in the home burg, Voices of women folk, Verses you learned in school days, Pop up in the mist and smoke, As you stand there grippin’ that rifle, A standin’ and chilled to the bone, Wonderin’ and wonderin’ and wonderin,’ Just thinkin’ there—all alone! When will the war be over? When will the gang break through? What will the U. S. look like? What will there be to do? Where will the Boshes be then? Who will have married Nell? When’s that relief a-comin’ up? Gosh! But this thinkin’s hell! * * * * * Gee Whiz By Dorothy. Dream girl with your raven hair Eyes of brown and dimples too Can’t you find one day to spare That I may elope with you? Too many ginks are on your hooks You trifle right and left They toddle round with hungry looks Poor nuts they’re all bereft. Dream girl get your cigarettes And I’ll produce the booze, Put the brake on vain regrets And let us burn the fuse. Hire a hall or buy a yacht It’s all the same, Oh! gee But give me everything you’ve got It’s coming straight to ME. Dream girl with your raven hair Come cuddle up and tease Love me, bite me like a bear, Then kiss me—naughty—please. Make it today and don’t postpone Don’t make your sweetie pout, Dear heart I’m sitting all alone For the darned old booze gave out. * * * * * The Land of Gee and Haw By Ted Lattourette Hansford. I have a home I’m not ashamed of, In the land of Gee and Haw, Where Jeff Davis found a pile of rocks And called it Arkansaw. And I am going back to Flatrock, Where the cornfed people stay, And they make a little moonshine Just to pass the time away. I can see old Hank and Silas, A firing up the drum To run a drink that’s guaranteed To put sorrow on the bum. It glistens like the dewdrops, At the dawn of early morn, And you can smell the boys’ feet That plowed the yaller corn. It fills your heart with gratitude, And keeps you feeling fine, Like everybody was owin’ you And you didn’t need a dime.