_"I've given a lot of my time and work To helping my country," says he; "No one can tell you that I am a shirk In the great cause of Liberty!" (Perhaps you have met him? Well, then, forget him!)_ John Lampas was a Greek, John Lampas isn't now; He's just a plain American And eating soldier chow. He joined the army recently, But first--he gave away His touring car, his watch, his cash To the Red Cross one day, And then enlisted. "That's all I can do," He said; "and I'm glad to give it, for true!" He doesn't ask for praise, For jollies, or for guff; He gave because this land gave him A _chance_--which was enough! He hasn't got a dollar; He's just a khakied man, But, somehow, he seems mighty like A _true_ American! His cash and his watch and his auto he gave, And then himself. Was that foolish, or brave? _So when I hear that other chap Congratulate himself because He gave "some time"--I'd like to rap Him once across his selfish paws! (Because I have met him-- I want to forget him!)_ HULLO, SOLDIER! HOW'S THE BOY? We're not a bit deluded by the notion That this is just a picnic, or that we Enlisted for a trip across the ocean-- There's work ahead, not just a joyous spree. Of course we sing and talk and sometimes dance; But get this in your mind--that when we hear "Hullo, Soldier! How's the boy?" as we disembark in France, _They_ will hear us answer, "Ready!" Loud and clear; They will see that we _are_ ready, Never fear. Don't you think that we are just a bunch of flivvers; We've measured up the job that must be done And we know what we are facing, though the shivers Don't turn our spines to rubber--not a one! The Prussian scorned the world. Well, let him scorn it (The world exchanges loathing for that scorn); We haven't put on khaki to adorn it, But to make the Prussian sorry He was born; And to send him back, his "Kultur" Banner torn! So it doesn't matter that some foolish people Bemoan the fact this Army's on the go; Unless it _is_, the harvest they will reap'll Be slavery or death, they ought to know. It isn't what they want or what we'd like-- It's what we've _got_ to do.... When others say, "Hullo, Soldier! How's the boy?" as we drill and shoot and hike, They must hear us answer, "Ready!" Ev'ry day, _It's this nation's debt to France we've Come to pay!_ BEANS A simple ditty Private Smithy sang for me, Entitled "Beans."... The tune was not a joy; The words were commonplace as they could be, But just to hear his earnest voice--"Oh, Boy!" When first I went a-sojerin' I couldn't eat the stuff The cookies gave the bunch of us, For it was rough and tough. But since I've been a-sojerin' And learned what _livin'_ means The grub we get tastes mighty good, E-special-lee th' beans, Especially th' beans!