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“Old Glory's dishonored?

We back down on our word? Brave men may despise us,"

Is that what you've heard?

What's that about “pottage,

And selling our souls, And birthright”? — and “brothers

At opposite poles”?

I know all


me, I've heard it before; I've read of that fighting,

And how the guns roar.

Well — ain't it the dollar

They want over there, And won't they all take

Every one we can spare?

Let go

of the bridle, I'm going to sell

My corn and that cotton,

I might just as well;
For I'm sure in the end,

Those Teutons won't win,
So what's the use talking

'Bout greed, or of sin?

O hang it, you tell me

This country “has furled, The flag that had stood

For hope in the world”?

And what if it has —

guess we can say,
We're the biggest and richest

Of countries to-day.

To market, to market,

The corn's in the ear,
The cotton boll's bursting,

The ship's at the pier. (On the wind)

far away,
Men are dying

For the Right,
Day and night.

Heroes all :

Far away,

Now the summer weaves their pall.

But we mourn, who may not share In the glory of their dying, -Oh, how sorrowful!-How fair,

— Pain is fled-
They, the Deathless!

Say not, dying,
Say not, dead.

August, 1915

" There was a little man Who had

gun, And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.

a little

TWhenta Zeppelin in flight

, When

Sailed inland from the English coast,

coast, coast;
It came to maim and kill,

- That was the Kaiser's will
For later of its work he could boast,

boast, boast.

Young women, children, men,
Were hurt and injured then,
And murdered by those cruel bombs,

bombs, bombs;
But Zeppelins are made

For that purpose, and to raid
Over-seas in enemy kingdoms, doms,


Now there was the little man,
Who had the little gun,

And bullets that were made of lead,

lead, lead;
He bravely had a try

At that monster in the sky,
But he only shot a pigeon dead, dead,


In Berlin much was told,
Of the little man so bold,
And the people all said, “What a sin,

sin, sin!” While a Chancellor, far-famed, “It is treachery,” exclaimed, “To try to destroy a Zeppelin,” lin, lin.

So, if you have a gun,
Don't shoot at any Hun,
Though you should be at war with

them, them, them;
They will say, “How very base,

Or term it a disgrace,
And wickedness for you to resist them,


“How strange!” I hear you say; But they are made that way,

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