Giuseppe, ees strutta about lik' da king, An' laugh at da hard-worka man Who grinda da org' a few neekels to bring, Or sella da ripa banan'. Each morning he waxa da blacka moustache, Then walk up an' down through da ward; You betta he gotta da playnta da cash, For Giuseppe, he work at da Ford. _Battle of Belleau Wood_ This poem was chosen by Major General John A. Lejeune, Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, as his favorite of all the Marine Corps verse written during the war. It was thick with Prussian troopers, it was foul with German guns; Every tree that cast a shadow was a sheltering place for Huns. Death was guarding every roadway, death was watching every field, And behind each rise of terrain was a rapid-fire concealed; Uncle Sam's Marines had orders: "Drive the Boche from where they're hid. For the honor of Old Glory, take the woods!" And so they did. I fancy none will tell it as the story should be told-- None will ever do full justice to those Yankee troopers bold-- How they crawled upon their stomachs through the fields of golden wheat, With the bullets spitting at them in that awful battle heat. It's a tale too big for writing; it's beyond the voice or pen, But it glows among the splendor of the bravest deeds of men. It's recorded as a battle, but I fancy it will live As the brightest gem of courage human struggles have to give. Inch by inch, they crawled to victory toward the flaming mouths of guns; Inch by inch, they crawled to grapple with the barricaded Huns; On through fields that death was sweeping with a murderous fire, they went Till the Teuton line was vanquished and the German strength was spent. Ebbed and flowed the tides of battle, as they've seldom done before; Slowly, surely, moved the Yankees against all the odds of war. For the honor of the fallen, for the glory of the dead, The living line of courage kept the faith and moved ahead. They'd been ordered not to falter, and when night came on they stood With Old Glory proudly flying o'er the trees of Belleau Wood. _Partridge Time_ When Pa came home last night he had a package in his hand; "Now, Ma," said he, "I've something here which you will say is grand. A friend of mine got home to-day from hunting in the woods, He's been away a week or two, and got back with the goods. He had a corking string of birds--I wish you could have seen 'em!" "If you've brought any partridge home," said Ma, "you'll have to clean 'em."