Part 8 (1/2)

RUBAIYAT OF A PLATTSBURG CANDIDATE

Awake! 'tis morning, though it should not be-- Come, can the yawns, it's speed they want to see-- And stagger forth upon a hostile world, In flannel s.h.i.+rt and cotton pants O. D.

Before the phantoms of the night were done, Methought I idled somewhere in the sun, Debating whether beauty to pursue, Or touch a bell, and cultivate a bun.

And lovely maids in garments pale did seem To s.h.i.+mmer round me in continuous stream, Each with a gla.s.s of something in her hand, And then I turned--and lo! it was a dream!

And ere the c.o.c.k crew he that stood before The barracks, shouted ”Half a minute more!

Belts, bayonets, and pieces--on the jump-- And signal-flags and alidades,” O Lor'!

I sometimes think that never battles din Were so unwelcome as the words ”Fall in!”

Nor any victory could taste so sweet As French vermouth with ice and Gordon gin.

Yesterday's problem 'twixt the Red and Blue Involved our journey down the Road Peru; The day before we took the Peru Road-- I'll bet a hat we're there to-morrow, too.

Myself when fresh and full of zeal and s.p.u.n.k, Hung on the words whence wisdom should be drunk; But this was all the harvest that I reaped-- To say ”as fast as possible” is punk.

Platoon commanders, captains by the score, Each takes his turn--and then is seen no more; But no one ever thinks of him again One half so kindly as they thought before.

To-day's commander, with commands profuse, To-morrow to the rear rank will reduce.

Think, and you know not what he meant to say-- He knows not neither, so--ah, what's the use?

Waste not your hour to criticize or blame, You would have done it worse, or just the same.

Better to pack your troubles with your kit, To keep your s.h.i.+rt on, and to play the game.

Some for the shriek of shot and sh.e.l.l, and some Sigh for the bottle of New England rum.

Oh, face the facts, and let the fiction go-- I'll bet ”_la vie des tranchees_” will be b.u.m.

One moment's rest, then back into the mill With b.u.t.t and point to lacerate and kill.

I often wonder what the Germans teach One half so cultured as our ”Bay'net Drill.”

For war is h.e.l.l, and Plattsburg not a jest, And yet, by gravy, we will do our best, Till submarine and Kaiser are forgot, Or Angel Gabriel hollers out, ”At rest!”

DREAMS

Says Captain Peek to Company Two, ”Let's have an exam to-day; ”So get your rifles and bayonet, boys, ”And fall in right away.

”Line up whenever you're ready to go; ”At route step do squads right: ”Light up your pipes, roll up your sleeves, ”We'll try to make this light.”

With joyful faces they march to parade, Fall out and rest on the gra.s.s.

”Will someone please perform right face?

”We'll let slight errors pa.s.s.”

Then Captain Peek shuts up that book ”I won't give one black mark.

”Officers, beat it; get the hook!

”I'll drill you right till dark.