“Bring Home the Bacon”

        (“I knew my honey boy would bring home the Bacon.” – Mrs. Johnson, Chicago, July 6, 1910)

Gird up your loins, ye sons of earth,

     And buckle on your armor;

It matters not what be your lot,

     A soldier or a farmer.

Go out into the haunts of man,

     Be steady and unshaken;

Go forth to slay whate’er you may,

     And bring back home the bacon.

The bacon is the game, my sons,

     You are not out for pleasure;

Run up your flag, your pirate rag,

     And scoop in all the treasure.

Run out your guns and blaze away,

     And let the world be shaken;

Don’t hesitate to clean the plate,

     And bring back home the bacon.

This is a world of give and take –

     Take all you can, my honey;

Knock out the chap who’d stop to scrap,

     For bacon is but money.

What though you pummel him to pulp

     And leave him ill, forsaken,

Knock left and right to win the fight,

     And bring back home the bacon.

July 12, 1910