The Woe of Private “B”

                                          

I wanter hear the big guns boom along the Flanders line

     Where boys from home are waitin’ for the Huns to make their drive;

I wanter hera the spittin’ of the automatics five

     An’ see the Yankee airships as they wind an’ dip an’ dive.

I wanter her the bugles when they sound their brassy notes

     A-callin’ men to action for to meet the burrowed Huns,

I wanter see Ol’ Glory as she proudly waves an’ floats

     Inspirin’ of the Sammees as they squint along their guns.

I wanter go to Flanders where the boys are all in brown,

     Where bayonet an’ sabre now are flashin’ in the sun;

Where all the Yanks are itchin’ for the bars to be let down’

     So they can put the demons of the Kaiser on the run.

I wanter see the thick of it, I wouldn’t mind a trench,

     I wanter try my musket on those uniforms of gray;

I wanter feel the handshake of a brother who is French,

     And help to roll the war clouds fur away.

I wanter go to Flanders with good Uncle Sammy’s crew –

     Alas! I’m over 40 an’ I’m sidetracked in the Guard,

Defendin’ docks an’ bridges – that’s the best that I can do –

     This bein’ born too early O, I say, it’s mighty hard!

I wanter go to Flanders, and I wanter smell o’ war

     But Uncle will not take me and my fondest hopes are marred;

But if there’s local trouble – and they saw that’s what we’re for –

     You bet I’ll do my d___est in the Old Home Guard.

Feb. 17, 1918