FROM THE GREAT WAR
149
FORGET IT, SOLDIER!
Sometimes when I grow weary
Of beans and soup and stew,
I long to be where I could get
A home-cooked meal or two.
Such thoughts as turkey, steaks and chops
Go floating through my head;
Biscuits, muffins, hot cakes
And loaves of home-made bread.
Forget it, soldier!
Such feasts are not for you.
Let hunger spice your soup and beans
And appetize your stew.
At night when I get tired
Of bed sack, straw and cot;
Of sleeping under blankets,
Sometimes warm and sometimes not,
I dream of great fourposter beds,
With pillow, quilt and sheet
And mattresses in which you sink
About a thousand feet.
Forget it, soldier!
Such ease is not for you.
Let hard work make your bed sack soft,
As other fellows do.
