TO BUDDY

It’s a tough fight for you, Buddy,

And it takes a heap of grit

To stick and win

And keep your grin

When you’re in the thick of it.

It’s no cinch for you, Buddy,

When the dreams with which you came

Melt into naught

As you are taught

The horrid, bitter game.

It’s a hard pull for you, Buddy,

And oft times it looks damned blue,

But square your chin

And vow to win,

And play the game clean through.

For there’s a great time coming, Buddy,

A time worth waiting for,

When Kultur’s done

And all is won,

And the boys come home from war.

Oh, she’ll be waiting, Buddy,

And the lovelight in her eye

Will shine with joy

As Her Big Boy

Goes proudly marching by.

It’s a hard road for you, Buddy,

But it’s more than worth the game

To buck all fears

So Mother’s tears

Will be for joy, not shame.

Howard J. Green, Corp., Inf.

THE WOOD CALLED ROUGE-BOUQUET [^[1]]

(Dedicated to the memory of 19 members of Co. E., 165th Infantry, who made the supreme sacrifice at Rouge-Bouquet, Forest of Parroy, France, March 7; read by the chaplain at the funeral, the refrain echoing the music of Taps from a distant grove.)

TO BUDDY

THE WOOD CALLED ROUGE-BOUQUET[[1]]

THE WOOD CALLED ROUGE-BOUQUET [^[1]]