The time to fight
To keep it bright
Is not along the way,
Nor 'cross the foam,
But here at home
Within ourselves--to-day.
'Tis we must love
That flag above
With all our might and main;
For from our hands--
Not distant lands--
Shall come dishonor's stain.
If that flag be
Dishonored, we
Have done it---not the foe;
If it shall fall,
We, first of all,
Shall have to strike the blow.
The Unsettled Scores
The men are talking peace at 'ome, but 'ere we're talking fight,
There's many a little debt we've got to square;
A sniper sent a bullet through my bunkie's 'ead last night,
And 'is body's lying somewhere h'over there.
Oh, we 'ear a lot of rumors that the war is h'almost through
But Hi'm thinking that it's only arf begun;
Every soldier in the trenches has a little debt that's due
And Hi'm telling you it's not a money one.
We 'ave 'eard the bullets whistle and we've 'card the shrapnel sing
And we've listened to a dying comrade's pleas,
And we've 'eard about the comfort that the days of peace will bring,
But we've debts that can't be settled h'over seas.
They that 'aven't slept in trenches, 'aven't brothered with the worms,
'Aven't 'ad a bunkie slaughtered at their side,
May some day get together and arrange some sort of terms,
But it isn't likely we'll be satisfied.
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