Rhymes of the Rookies Part 5

Don't go a-missing reveille; and be in bed by check, Don't buck against the captain, or you'll get it in the neck.

Be sure to turn out promptly when you hear the sergeant shout, For the Summary Court will get you if you don't watch out.

Because you've got some service don't think you know it all, You'll get your extras just the same if you should miss a call.

Take what they hand you weekly. Don't grumble, frown or pout.

For the Summary Court will get you if you don't watch out.

THE SCENT OF THE COCOA

You have heard of the ancient incense; Of the dew of Hermann you've read; You have been told of the precious ointment That poured down on Aaron's head; But tell me--with all your knowledge, Your theory, study and toil, Have you heard of an equal or sequel To the scent of the cocoanut oil?

At first it is always repulsive, Makes you gag and back off in despair; But when you've got the scent of the cocoa, Just a scent, a mere whiff in the air, Then you're gone, boy, yes, and forever, Where'er in this world you may roam; When you once get the scent of the cocoa You forget all the precepts of home.

You forget those most n.o.ble teachings Of fort.i.tude, temperance and truth When you once get the scent of the cocoa.

You're gone, boy, gone and forsooth Though you try hard and strive to recover, Pray to G.o.d and his angels as well, If you've once got the scent of the cocoa You're destined--your future is h.e.l.l.

But why should you be predestined By the scent of an innocent oil?

When you once get the scent of the cocoa No more can you break from its toil Than a gambler can break from his ventures, The drunkard turn away from his rye.

When you once get the scent of the cocoa The longing is there till you die.

The great world at large doesn't know all, The guilty ones seldom confess When you once get the scent of the cocoa Wafted up from the bright pa.s.sing dress That their thoughts are not those of angels Sweet and pure as the dew of the rose, That it's not just the scent of the cocoa But the perquisite that with it goes.

There are times when the righteous are doubtful, There are times when no man doubts.

When you once get the scent of the cocoa There's a man and his conscience at outs; Reckless of moral destruction, Fearless of anguish and pain, When you once get the scent of the cocoa 'Tis that scent that you long for again.

One may part from the Orient gladly, From its garlic and dhobie and goats; But if he's once got the scent of the cocoa As he sits and in reverie dotes,-- His thoughts will revert to the eastward, To the land of yellow and brown And he sighs for the scent of the cocoa, And the sight of a pina gown.

MEN OF THE HOSPITAL CORPS

They, too, have heard the drum-beat, They follow the bugle's call, Those who are swift with pity On the field where brave men fall.

When the battle boom is silent And the echoing thunder dies, They haste to the plain, red sodden With the blood of sacrifice.

The flag that floats above them Is marked with a crimson sign, Pledge of a great compa.s.sion And the rifted heart divine.

And so they follow the bugle And heed the drumbeat's call, But their errand is one of pity:-- They succor the men who fall.

GARRISON LIFE

I want to go home, wailed the private, The sergeant and corporal the same, For I'm tired of the camp and the hikin', The grub and the rest of the game.

I'm willing to do all the fightin', For that is a game two can play; But I want to go home, for me goil's all alone, An' I want to go home to-day.

For I've marched 'til me throat was a-crackin', 'Til crazed for the want of a drink, I've drilled 'til me back was a-breakin', An' I haven't had time to think.

And I've had me share of policin', And guard and I'm tired of me lay; For me goil's all alone, an' I want to go home, An' I want to go home to-day.

Do they heed us a-dying in garrison life?

They say it's the water and such, We think that more apt it's the hikin', For the life of a private ain't much; But we know we can fight if we have to, And they won't have to show us the way, But me goil's all alone, an' I want to go home, An' I want to go home to-day.

THE PHILIPPINITIS

My friend, have you heard of the town of Manila, On the banks of the Pasig River, Where blooms the wait-awhile flower fair, And the "some time other" scents the air, And the soft-go-easy grow?

It lies in the Valley of What's-the-use, In the province of Let-her-slide.

That old tired feeling is native there, It's the home of the listless I don't care.

Where the Put-it-off abide.

THE EAST IS A'CALLING

They say that the East is alluring; The balmy green isles of the sea.

But with all their wild splendor a.s.suring, They have no fascination for me.

I camped with the boys at Sia.s.si, Way down in that sequestered isle, Where the garb of a primitive la.s.sie, Was naught save a gee string and smile.

I hiked o'er the hog trails of Jolo, In the blistering rays of the suns, As the wild savage wielding his bolo, Fell beneath the onslaught of our guns.

With a cartridge belt, rifle and knapsack, I tramped through the wooded ravine, On a ration of hard tack and bacon, And a swig from a rusty canteen.

In Mindanao island so dreary, From Malabang to Hawaiian hill, Ever faithful though footsore and weary, I shouldered my Krag for the drill.

On the outpost when night darkened o'er us A lone vigil I kept through the rain, And watched for the bloodthirsty Moros, That prowled through the desolate cayan.

I have seen the half clad Filipino, In his nipa thatched shack in Luzon, Dispensing the tuba and bino, Amidst our gay laughter and song.

At eve the brown-hued senoritas, Strolled leisurely over the green, In hobbles and gaudy camisas, Their more loving than handsome queens,

They may say the East is a'calling, The picturesque isles of the sea, But with all their wild splendor enthralling, They have no fascination for me.

TELL YOUR TROUBLES TO THE CORPORAL OF THE GUARD

If number one you are walking, And to a comrade talking, While around the country gawking, Keeping neither watch nor ward, And an officer unsaluted, Swears at you with voice polluted, Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If you are at the bridge of Spain, And a foreign lady vain-- While a native with a rein Jerks the skinny pony hard, When to her aid you'll turn, Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If on the Escolta posted, And the sun your back has roasted, And rebel chieftain boasted As he handed you his card-- That he soon would clean you out And put your Dewey's fleet to rout, Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If to the canteen you are sent, And your frame with thirst is rent, And your spirits drooped and bent, And the soldiers and the sailors bottle-crazed-- All are drinking fizzes cool, Do not rave and act the fool, Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If you should a bottle get, No matter on which beat, Or a morsel sweet to eat, In the dreary times so hard; You will find a friend to share it-- Call promptly for the Corporal of the Guard.