"Life is real; life is earnest"--but a Gamble after all, "Ten million Conscripts" are answering the Call; Ten million men of which I am One-- What were the "odds" when "the wheel was spun"? What were the "odds" that Fate would select Me for a Conscript--another reject? Fate was the Gambler; I was a "chip," Death was the "stake" held in Life's grip; I am a Conscript played in Fate's hand, When the Game's over--how will I stand? Death, will it lose, or Life, will it win, Who'll be the "winner" at the great "Cash-in"? Ten million Conscripts to answer the Call, And at the gusts, the leaves must fall: With submarines launching torpedoes below, Which troop ship to atoms are they to blow? Ghosts of disease lurking in camp, Spectral sickness in trenches so damp; Ten million bullets ripping the air, Which Conscript to be stricken, and when and where? Ten million shrapnel shrieking o'er head, Which Conscript to reckon among their dead? Thousands of wounds, a-gaping and wide, Who will recover, and who will have died? Millions of mothers so anxious at home, Who will wear crepe for loved ones, alone? Millions of sweethearts who'll weep o'er the "lists," Which lovers the lips ne'er more to be kissed? All is a Gamble--this War-Game of Chance-- The life of a Conscript over in France. The "Roulette of Life" is spinning so fast, The "red ball of Death" must drop in at last; Which numbers will win, which numbers will lose, The "odds" or the "evens," the "reds" or the "blues"? Yet Hope is the "Banker" and He will repay The chances that Conscripts must take in the fray; And Fate's a Good sport, when "dealing the cards," He'll give "Fifty-fifty" to Conscript for odds. THE SLACKER Why don't he volunteer to serve In Uncle Sammy's grand reserve? He knows quite well his country's call; Has no regard for this, at all. He never thinks to do his part, Because he has a Slacker's heart. He walks along the street quite spry-- To feign indifference he must try, When suddenly he takes affright, It's just a picture (what a sight) Of Uncle Sam with pointing finger. Take it from me! He doesn't linger. "Why don't you do it? do it quick!" The Slacker's skull is very thick. It never penetrates the gray, What Uncle Sammy, has to say. "I want you NOW!" Oh, what a Mutt. The words fall on a brainless nut. He lied on registration day-- Conscription's law he'll not obey. He seeks the nuptial vows to take, Or any other useless fake. Whatever else, he'll never fight. He has the Slacker's ear-marks right. Oh, what a useless, shameless pest, A blot on human kind at best. His feelings are for SELF alone. He would not give a dog the bone. Behold his attitude--his pose. The Slacker's ring is in his nose.