Swift as the eagle that drives a lamb to death She whipped a hat-pin from her dainty hat, Drove it with steady aim Into the baby's heart And handed back to the gulping man All that was left of what had once meant joy-- A dead baby with red bubbles on its lips! THE 'SKEETER FLEET Mighty little doin'--yet a lot to do-- While the navy's standin' guard, we are lookin' out; Patrol boats in shoals, good old craft and new Hustle here and skitter there--what's it all about? Speed boats and slow boats Loaf around or run, But ev'ry unit of this fleet Mounts a wicked gun! Pleasure craft a-plenty, all dolled up in gray Grim and ugly war-paint dress, we're a gloomy lot, Slidin' in and out, never in the way. Gosh! It's wearin' on the nerves, waitin' round--for what? Some boats are bum boats, Layin' for the Hun-- But ev'ry boat that flies our Flag Mounts a wicked gun! Stickin' for the Big Show! Will it ever start? When it does, Good night, Irene! We won't make a squeak. "Boy Scouts of the Sea," watch us do our part If a raider or a sub. gives us just a peek! Tin boats and wood boats-- Ev'ry single one Longs to get in action with Its wicked little gun! LITTLE MOTHER _Little mother, little mother, with the shadows in your eyes And the icy hand of Fear about your heart, You cannot help your boy prepare to make his sacrifice Unless you make yours bravely, at the start!_ He is training, as a million others train; He is giving what the others give--their best; Make him feel your faith in him, though your troubled eyes grow dim; Let him know that you can stand the acid test! Because he's joined the colors--he's not dead! Because he's found his duty--he's not lost! Through your mother-love, my dear, keep him steady, keep him near To the soul he loves--your soul--whate'er the cost! You're not alone in heartaches or in doubts; All mothers feel this burden newly coined; Then call your trembling pride to your colors--to your side-- "Be a sport!" and make him glad that he has joined! _Little mother, little mother, with the shadows in your eyes And the icy hand of Fear about your heart, There is this that you can do: "Play the game"; there honor lies. Now your boy and country need you--do your part!_ SOLDIERS OF THE SOIL It's a high-falutin' title they have handed us; It's very complimentary an' grand; But a year or so ago they called us "hicks," you know-- An' joshed the farmer and his hired hand! Now it's, "Save the country, Farmer! Be a soldier of the soil! Show your patriotism, pardner, By your never-ending toil." So we're croppin' more than ever, An' we're speedin' up the farm; Oh, it's great to be a soldier-- A sweatin', sun-burnt soldier,-- A soldier in the furrows-- Away from "war's alarm!"