There are debts we want to settle, 'and to 'and, and face to face, There are one or two Hi've promised that Hi'd square; And Hi cannot 'old my 'ead up, 'ere or in the other place, Till Hi've settled for my bunkie, lying there. Warriors We all are warriors with sin. Crusading knights, we come to earth With spotless plumes and shining shields to joust with foes and prove our worth. The world is but a battlefield where strong and weak men fill the lists, And some make war with humble prayers, and some with swords and some with fists. And some for pleasure or for peace forsake their purposes and goals And barter for the scarlet joys of ease and pomp, their knightly souls. We're all enlisted soldiers here, in service for the term called life And each of us in some grim way must bear his portion of the strife. Temptations everywhere assail. Men do not rise by fearing sin, Nor he who keeps within his tent, unharmed, unscratched, the crown shall win. When wrongs are trampling mortals down and rank injustice stalks about, Real manhood to the battle flies, and dies or puts the foes to rout. 'Tis not the new and shining blade that marks the soldier of the field, His glory is his broken sword, his pride the scars upon his shield; The crimson stains that sin has left upon his soul are tongues that speak The victory of new found strength by one who yesterday was weak. And meaningless the spotless plume, the shining blade that goes through life And quits this naming battlefield without one evidence of strife. We all are warriors with sin, we all are knights in life's crusades, And with some form of tyranny, we're sent to earth to measure blades. The courage of the soul must gleam in conflict with some fearful foe, No man was ever born to life its luxuries alone to know. And he who brothers with a sin to keep his outward garb unsoiled And fears to battle with a wrong, shall find his soul decayed and spoiled. Easy Service When an empty sleeve or a sightless eye Or a legless form I see, I breathe my thanks to my God on High For His watchful care o'er me. And I say to myself, as the cripple goes Half stumbling on his way: I may brag and boast, but that brother knows Why the old flag floats to-day. I think as I sit in my cozy den Puffing one of my many pipes That I've served with all of my fellow men The glorious Stars and Stripes. Then I see a troop in the faded blue And a few in the dusty gray, And I have to laugh at the deeds I do For the flag that floats to-day.