"Oh, he's a man," they answer then.
"And you know how it is with men.
But little do they ever say,
They do not feel the self-same way;
He seems indifferent and grim
And yet he's very proud of him."
Indifferent and grim! Oh, heart,
Be brave enough to play the part,
Let not the grief in you be shown,
Keep all your loneliness unknown,
To you the women folks must turn
For comfort when their sorrows burn.
You must not at this time reveal
The pain and anguish that you feel.
Oh, tongue, be silent through the years,
And eyes, keep back always the tears,
And let them never see or know
My hidden weight of grief and woe.
Though every golden dream I had
Was centered in my little lad,
Alone my sorrow I must bear.
They must not know how much I care.
Though women folks may talk and weep,
A man, unseen, his grief must keep,
And hide behind his smile and pride
The loneliness that dwells inside.
And so, from day to day, I go,
Playing the part of man, although
Beneath the rough outside and grim,
I think and dream and pray for him.
The Waiter at the Camp
The officers' friend is the waiter at camp.
In the night air 'twas cold and was bitterly damp,
And they asked me to dine, which I readily did,
For at dining I've talents I never keep hid.
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