My blood the surgeons fortify With antiseptic serum; The dread bacilli I defy, What cause have I to fear 'em? We form outside the pest-house door At one o'clock precisely, But if we get our dose at four We think we're doing nicely. And in our arm the surgeon stabs A hypodermic squirter, E'en as the hungry hobo jabs His fork in a frankfurter. I'm full of dope for smallpox germs, For typhus and such evils, For broken heart and army worms, For chestnut blight and weevils. I'm doped against the bayonet Wielded by German demons; But no one seems to think I'll get Dear old delirium tremens. DON'T WEAKEN When you feel on the bum and the outlook is glum, And you're wonderin' what's comin' next; When most every thing's drear and life loses its cheer, And the Skip and Reverses are vexed; If this Plattsburgish heat knocks you clean off your feet, Or your bunkies they ain't even speakin'; Keep your shirt on your back, don't knock over the stack, It's a great life, if you don't weaken. When they launder your sock till it ain't fit to hock, When they shrink up your shirt like a rag; If you blister your toes and then sunburn your nose And then can't even go on a jag; Why, you're sure out of luck, but just pass the old buck, Keep a stiff upper lip like a deacon; Though you shoot ten straight blanks do not kick with the cranks, Summon a grin and don't weaken. If you're late for retreat and must police the street, If at reveille you're still in your bed; If your girl sends you flags which some other cuss bags, Or they clip all the hair off your head; If the mess comes out burned, So your stomach gets turned, Or the "upper man" keeps you from sleepin'; Don't you growl, that won't help, For they'll dub you a whelp; Can the grouch--but don't weaken. THE THREE Three dead men rose on nimble toes Above the frozen clay; And as they sped, each of the Dead Told how he died that day. Said one, "I sent the Regiment To safety as I fell." The Second cried, "Before I died I hurled the foe to Hell." As for the Third, he spoke no word But hastened on his way, Until at last a whisper passed: "How did _you_ die today?" "There was a maid slept unafraid Within a hut," he said. "I searched the place and for a space I thought that all had fled. "But her breast glowed white in the morning light As the early dawn grew red; Tiptoe I came in lust and shame And stood beside her bed.