PS 350S ^'^'''^ iJTTlE KJME^ °^™^ ^ARRISOn By BIRDIE BAXTER CLARKE <^ ^^^ ^ '' I ... ... s " x'\ .0- 'o , '/- \ « V 1 8 . -/: ^^"^ -^^ o. -0 > . 5^ '• ^ •' .'^ '-^ ^ ^ ^ s'V- ^ /. r, ^^^^ .^ ., ^C \' ^ ^ " " ■^ % •vWJ-:^ 8 I \ _V '- '-. .^^ '/- \ .o^' > '/^, -0- '>- C^ s .A V- ,^\^ ^ ^' ^M^:^ . . "'>^. %' ^^ ^>. %* ^ ';:■:'.. ^\.v ■-N'" ^ if^' >, .x\^ ^^-^ ^^. \ e:,"'^ ;/ <■'. -.. .,x^^ x^^^' % py,Au^^^' rf OO' .^'i •i'^^^ xO°- \' A-.^^ -0' > V « \ I 8 . -^b ,0^^' •o- oo •"oo^ "':^^o^ a\' .^ ^/v. /^;^^\%.^' •C^<^ .^^■■^r- L^ ''> ^■^ ^*, "/7 >^' #^V^. >>° °.. Is? ^. " 8 1 \ A^' ":r. 'O ^^. ,^' -'^,^^ xO '^^^ ^^' %'^^/ '^^^^ ,.v .0 0. >' "^ .0- oo' ^. ,^- ,C, ^&j '^'^^ -.-^gp^ %s^- ^ * » %^ <^ C^' b. .0' ^ '' ■ '^x -^i- o 0' V /: xO°<. ^\! BIRDIE BAXTER CLARKE. LITTLE RIMES OF THE GARRISON -BY- BIRDIE BAXTER CLARKE. With Photographic Illustrations by the Author. 1909 FRANKLIN HUDSON PRESS Kansas City, Mo. Copyright 1909 by Franklin Hudson Publishing Company Kansas City, Missouri ^' ©CU2fl58'.8 To My Captain, Mv Children, AND THE Enlisted Men of the Service, These Little Rimes are Dedicated. Birdie Baxter Clarke Little Rimes of the Garrison. 1 1 INDEX Acrostic Tu the Flag 15 Little Rimes of the Garrison. Army Fever 17 When the Big Guns Shoot 19 Fate's Foibles 23 The Engineer's Christmas Dream 25 Mrs. Casey's Proposal 29 Hushabye 3 ^ The Little Top Sergeant 33 The Bugler's Valentine 39 Winter in the Old Fort 37 Leap Year Acrostic 4 ^ When "Dixie" Played 43 An Impromptu Fourth 45 A Toast to the Ninth Torpedo Company, C. A. C, Christmas, 1907 49 The Soldier's New Year 51 When "Fire Call" Blows ". 53 Plantin' Mines — A Toast to the Ninth Mine Company, C. A. C, 1908 57 "Mess Call" 63 "Overcoats" 65 Fortress Monroe 67 The Soldier's Farewell 69 Character "Fair" 71 12 Little Rimes of the Garrison. INDEX — Continued. Sally and the Sentry 73 Sergeant Dave 75 The Regular Army Wife 77 Little Rimes of the Camp. A Bum Bugler 79 The Passing of the Transport • 81 Encamped 87 "Stub's" Request 89 The Limerick Militaire. Some Lost Chevrons 91 From a Private Jolonel 91 Left Behind 93 A Slight Mistake 93 In the Mine Company 95 Out of vSight, Out of Danger 95 Discovered 97 The Fate of O'vShannon 97 Rejected 99 Asleep at the Switch ( Boa d) 9g Doing Time in Over the Hill i 01 The Sprint of the Sprinter it>3 Marooned 103 Disappointed 105 Rescued 105 Righteously Indignant 107 Her Reason 107 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 13 INDEX— CoN'TiNUED. Little "Kids" of the Garrison. When Sergeant Joe Goes on Parade 1 1 1 A Garrison Lullaby 113 Guard-House Tom 117 Christmas on the Garrison 121 An Army Tot's vSoliloquy 125 Environment 127 The Provo' 131 The Recruit 135 The Baby Bugler 137 Finis 139 Little Rimes of the Garrisofi, -^M A M vSTARRY emblem greets our eyes, that marked a wondrous nation's rise. ID drizzling show'rs and beaming sun, it waved o'er vict'ries proudly won. MBLE:M of Hope and Truth full strong— 1 of Right triumphant over Wrong — OLLED thy soft waves on breezes bright, to bless the dying hero's sight. N days of gloom each rosy band like sunrise glory kiss'd the land. lAN aught inglorious stain thy bars, or brand of tyrant quench thy stars? H, no! In triumph shalt thou wave o'er victor's home — e'er hero's grave. [Courtesy ''Army and Naiy Life."] R I c A Little Rimes of the Garrison. 17 [''Army and Navy Life,'' January, 1909.] ARMY FEVER. When your first long hitch is over, and you 've cashed your finals few, And a breakfast and a boat-ride are all that 's left for you. And you toy with your collar, as you don your suit of "cits," While your bunkie, sitting near you, has the bluest kind of fits; You are bubbling o'er with pleasure at the thought of going out ; The friends at home will welcome you, of that there 's not a doubt; And it never seems to strike you, that you 've made a beaten track. In these years you 've been a soldier — That you might come back! So you hasten out as "Boat Call" blows — last call you have to stand — And you wave farewell to comrades as you push away from land . "First Call " for drill is sounding from the bugle's throat of gold. But you are free — "don't have to stand no drills in heat and cold"; 1 8 Little Rimes of the Garrison. Altho' you get to wondering, as these scenes fade from sight, If drilHng really was so bad, and walking post at night. You think, of course, when first discharged one feels just sort o' sad; But it 's army fever symptoms — And you 'ue got 'em bad. You 're in business on the outside, and you 're making good^ it seems; But the bugle keeps a-calling, and a-calling thro' your dreams. Then some day you meet a soldier out on furlough for a week, And you think it only friendly to go up to him and speak ; And you find you know his brother, or his cousin, or his friend, And your job upon the outside has found a sudden end ; For a longing fierce comes o'er you that your soul can not resist — It 's the crisis of the fever — And you re-enlist! Little Rimes of the Garrison. 19 I 've done a hitch or two myself at soldierin' around, In Boston Harbor, Hampton Roads, Frisco, Puget Sound, And out near Salt Lake City, upon the mountain shelf, Was with the 2 2d field and liked to spread myself A-doin' stunts at monkey drill to make the fellers hoot; But them small field guns ain't nothin' When the big guns shoot. Little Rimes of the Garrison. You are in a snug range station a-takin' splash and time, And up to see the war display observe the ladies climb ! It 's fun to see them hold their ears so tight whene'er the guns Are climbing up in battery, in weight some fifty tons; A-feelin' scared for them to fire, and then begin to scoot, For you 'd think creation busted When the big guns shoot! Little Rimes of the Garrison. 21 - -^ '^^ The twelve-inch gun 's a beauty ! It 's a great sight, you can bet, To see her come in battery above the parapet, A-belchin' forth her fire and smoke in one great awful flash; When you look out toward the target, you can see a geyser splash, And out beyond another; it 's a ricochet to boot. Things are going some at soldierin' When the big guns shoot ! 22 Little Rimes of the Garrison. AK^ ^OUR PAY — JaL C?yr/*\AN (IS- Oh; it 's fine to be a soldier! Why, man, don't you enhst? It 's money in your pockets, and it 's better, I insist, Than huntin' 'round to find a job when none ain't to be had. And your pay is always comin' whether times are good or bad. You can see 'most all your country; you can't vegetate, take root ; Uncle Sanmi}" keeps you movin' Where his big guns shoot ! [Co uvtesy ' ' Bostoyt Herald. "] Little Rimes of the Garrison. 23 FATE'S FOIBLES.* IN THE VOLUNTEER CAMP. M}^ lady gay, on a dapple gray, Rode down to the beach at the close of day. The sun had sunk in the crimson west; His couch in royal splendor drest. Behind rode a soldier, trim, sedate; They rode along toward the Golden Gate. Her tresses of yellow were all flung back. And his of ebon curled short and black. Her skin was fair, of rose and cream, His had the rich deep bronze's gleam; Her eyes were blue as the summer sea. And his were dark, as dark as could be. He loved her so ! You could tell it fair By his gentle look and tender care. But they couldn't get married at all! Oh no! Such things in the Army wouldn't go! A captain's daughter of high degree Could never wed with the orderlv! *The author has known of several officers of the regular service who have served as privates of volunteers, and also one or two instances where men who are at present enlisted in the regular service have served as officers of volunteers. — B. B. C. 24 Little RiMWS* oj /A* Garhscm, SOME YEARS LATER AT A REGULAR GARRISOX. A few A-ears older is each to-da> . Mayhap each head has some threads of gray Tho' youth's fair beauty perhaps is gone, Each face has a gentler chann its own; And his eyes so dark and her^ so blue Are sa\-ing sweet things, as eyes will do. A cook in his kitchen, she works; and bakes Such edible pies and toothsome cakes; And smiling she goes to her work each day. Dreaming sometimes of the faraway War with its changes, heartaches and tears. And life in camp with the \'olunteers. She loves him still! You can tell it fair; The blue eyes follow him everv-where. Bur they cant get married at all! Oh no! Such things in the Army wouldn't go! For he, a captain of high degree. Couldn't wed the child of the orderlv! Little Rimes of the Garrison. THE EXGIXEERS CHRISTMAS DREA3L The artiller\- engineer sat in his den, Writing away with his big stub pen. The "Call to Quarters" was softly sounding, The breakers rough on the rocks were pounding; His hair was unkempt and his face was gray With the grime of work he had done that day; While great spots of grease bespattered his clothes. And the smoke from his cigarette arose In pale blue rings to the girders flung. Where, like huge black bells, the mine cai>s hung; And mines recumbent and mines afloat Made ready for wars, near or remote. Bloc£ and Tackle. Ground Mine "A Mic^ ^;^' > Buoy. Crab." 26 Little Rimes of the Garrison. There were heaps of buoys and chains and shackles; Turks' heads, anchors, and blocks and tackles; There were hydraulic jacks and shears and jin, And a tank for keeping the cable in; There was cable enough to reach Japan To explode the ships of his brother man. It was Christmas eve! How long it had seemed, As he sat at his desk and dreamed and dreamed Of his boyhood's tree, — oh, so long ago! — And a stocking stuffed full from top to toe, With heaps of new toys so queer and so quaint Brought down in the night by the Christmas Saint! But what is that looms from the corner there ! Can it be a tree so huge and fair? And is that a stocking that hangs beside? He starts, and his eyes grow so big and wide ! No! Yes! He 'd mistaken a year or so, For the stocking was stuffed from top to toe With queer-looking things that wiggled about; And, yes! One was actually crawling out' © Anchor. Buoyant Mine, Small. With Spines All Over Him Sticking Out." Little Rimes of the Garrison. "What! A mine buoy crab, oh, yes, I see!" He had heard there were queer things in the sea; Then a creature much larger crawled about. There were spines all over him sticking out; And one larger than he, with fins and scales, And they all had such long, thin, snaky tails! Then one that came crawling along the ground Was shaped like a gigantic biscuit round XLI> "One Larger, Buoyant Mine, with Fin^s and Large. Scales." And black and ugly with saucer eyes, While last reserved, most horrible surprise, Came one from whose center radiated Fierce, long black tentacles unsated. This ugly old cuttle came creeping o'er The edge of the stocking, dropped to the floor And straight for the engineer crawling came. While his small black eyes had a wicked flame; But just as a long black coil he flung out To enwrap his scared victim close about, A loud crash was heard and then sounds of glee; 'Twas the gun and the Christmas "Reveille"! Keg Buoy. A^ "Was Shaped Lik ' a ^ , ,,. Gigantic Biscuit Ground Mine. Round." Little Rimes of the Garrison. Awakening, our engineer saw with dismay He 'd slept in the storehouse till break of day. The torpedo materials lying about Were the creatures crawled from the stocking out And the mines with their lengthy cable tails Were the horrible things with fins and scales And with saucer eyes and such ugly shape, From which he was glad he had made escape; "His Small Black Distribution Eyes Had a Box. Wicked Fiama. " While the cuttle that caused him such terrible shocks Was only a distribution-box. So he crept to his quarters in time to see His little ones dance 'round their Christmas-tree, And to help their mother distribute gifts, Till the sunshine came in its golden rifts Of the Christmas morning so bright and fair, Dispensing peace and good-will everywhere. Little Rimes of the Garrison. zg MRS. CASEY'S PROPOSAL. Mrs. Casey, a blonde and fair to see, Was in age, perhaps, some forty- three; From her window watched, in the trim door-yard, Corporal O'Grady doing old guard. "It 's leap year, Dennis O'Grady, see, Arrah, my dear! Will yez marry me?" The corporal can scarce believe his ears. As this in a full rich brogue he hears. Then looks toward her in meek surprise, Somewhat of doubt in his clear gray eyes; "Faith, it sure I would, and most happy be; But I be married already!" says he. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 31 HUSHABYE. There 's a soldier's wife I know And her voice is sweet and low, As she sits her cottage nigh, Singing soft this lullaby To the baby on her knee, Cooing in his childish glee. As the rosy sunset's glow Lights parade and casemate row: "Hushabye, my baby dear, Soon thy daddy will be here." Once this woman worn was fair, Laughing eyes and curling hair; Red her cheeks with dimples set, And her red lips redder yet; Voice attuned with girlhood's glee Thrilling youth's glad melody. Tho' you can not trace a sigh As she sings her lullaby : "Hushabye, my baby dear. Soon thy daddy will be here." 32 Little Rimes of the Garrison. Bravely on she plods each day, And her soldier, far away, Can not know how lonely she With the baby on her knee; Can not know the heart's dull ache In the long nights spent awake; Nor the agonizing pain. Hid beneath the lilting strain : "Hushabye, my baby dear, Soon thy daddy will be here." So she waits and works the while, Heartache hid beneath a smile. Not a hero in the strife. Braver than this soldier's wife! Let us hope some scattered joys Hide among the littered toys; And that consolation comes From the little tune she hums: "Hushabye, my baby dear, Soon thy daddv will be here!" Little Rimes of the Garrison. 33 THE LITTLE TOP vSERGEANT. Oh, there 's trouble in the quarters ! Sergeant 's mad as 'e kin be, An' 'e says 'at all the company 's on the bum. There was Privates Jones and Leary slept clean thro' "Re- veille," And two corp'rals from their passes haven't come. The Captain 's lookin' sidewise and pretendin' not to hear, As each errin' rookie takes his cussin' out; And the young shavetail lieutenant makes his git away from here When the angry little sergeant comes about. 34 Little Rimes of the Garrison. Oh, there 's music in the quarters! You kin hear a violin. Sergeant 's teachin' of the rookies how to dance; The piano is a-helpin' with its workin's from within You kin tell each one is happy at a glance, As the tall ones and the short ones, the thick ones and the thin Glide swiftly past upon the barrack floor; For the little Sergeant 's smilin' as he plays his violin, And everything is peaceful-like once more ! 36 Little Rimes of the Garrison. \. "The fisher-boats rock Viriskly in the chilly winter night.' 2. "Where Summer scatters thick her daisies white." 3. "The gray ohl demilune." 4. "The grim old walls rise upward from t'le moat." Little Rimes of the Garrison. 37 WINTER IN THE OLD FORT. It is winter in the garrison: the silver moon so bright Across the snowy ramparts sheds its glow; And old prison caves, where Summer scatters thick her daisies white, Lie half hidden 'neath a winding-sheet of snow. The grim old walls rise upward from the moat of times gone by, Where have gaily bloomed the flowers of many a June; While, beyond, the frowning port-holes, each a sunken, sin- ister eye, Mark the dungeons in the gray old demilune. The bristling guns look outward toward the twinkling harbor light, That points the pilots brave where breakers lie; While the fisher-boats rock briskly in the chilly winter night, Silhouetted dark against the frosty sky. Human sounds break not the stillness, save the sentry's echo ing tread. As he walks his lonely post this winter night, But he knows the tour's ending toward a haven fair is led, Where across the silence beams the barrack light. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 39 THE BUGLER'S VALENTINE. The bugler wrote a valentine to Mary Ann, the cook; I 'd hate to speak of all his work, and all the time it took. There were roses all around it, and cupids by the score. And there must have been " I-love-you "s at least a dozen more; And when anon her answer came, it took him off his feet, He could scarcelv hold the bugle while blowing the "Retreat." For Mary Ann, the worldly wise, had made a valentine, A wondrous cake of monstrous size with candy cupids fine. (She knew, the minx, the pathway whereby man's heart to reach — And surely his love garden had found its growing peach !) The cake was stuffed with good things, the best upon the shelf, And then the bugler up and went and offered her — HIMSELF ! Little Rimes of the Garrison. LEAP YEAR ACROSTIC. L is Lieutenants, bachelors gruff, Encamped in quarters lonesome enough. A is the Army, a place of wrath; P the privileges that rank hath. Y for the year when ladies propose, Entrapping those bachelors, gruff, morose. And here 's to the girls — may they take this tip /?ank — on Leap Year — should H. I. P.* *"Rank hath its v)rivil?a;es." j Little Rimes of the Garrison. WHEN "DIXIE" PLAYED AT THE GARRISON BALL. The lights shone bright on strap and epaulette, On curling tress of gold and braided jet, On service chevrons fair, and medals won On gory fields for deeds of valor done. The music echoed wild and thnlling sweet, The tripping of a thousand merry feet; But one lone heart no lilting song had made — You were not there to dance when " Dixie" played. There many partners sought the hand to claim That yearned but yours, nor cared for war's proud fame Of added stars, or beauteous medals rare. But loves the simple chevron that you wear. And fate had called you far away that night; Had made for you a world most wondrous bright; You could not know how sad a heart was made, That 3^ou could not be there when "Dixie" played. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 45 AN IMPROMPTU FOURTH The electrician sergeant sat alone, In his casemate near the sea; 'Mid the drowsy drum Of the engine's hum, The wheels buzzed merril3\ 'Twas the night before the glorious Fourth, He 'd been to the town nearby. And had bought enough Of combustible stuff To blow the fort sky high, I'hat his boys and girls might celebrate In the good old-fashioned way, And with cracker and gun Enjoy the fun Of Independence Day. It seemed too early for things to begin. Yet things were starting free, With a flash as bright As a big searchlight Or a comet on a spree. Then apparently everything started at once- Those pyrotechnic things With the fair white stars x\nd the crimson bars That patriotism brings. 46 Little Rimes of the Garrison. There were Roman candles that sputtered and spat, Of white and red and green; And rockets that whizzed And screeched and sizzed, With bombs let off between. Then all at once a small, small boy Emits a joyous scream; And into the air Springs from his chair The sergeant from his dream. "Why, Daddy! What made you jump like that? I closed this little switch; When the breaker dropped And the lights all flopped, The sight was something rich! " Then I thought I 'd turn on the colored lights, Like the mine was hit, you know — The red and green; But I didn't mean To close the wrong switch, tho'I" And the father smiled as, at "Tattoo's" notes, He closed the casemate door; And soldier and son Made a homeward run To celebrate some more. [Courtesy "Army and Navy Life Little Rimes of the Garrison. 47 Liltlc Rimes oj the G'lrnsoii. 49 A TOAST TO THE NINTH TORPEDO COMPAiW — Oh, we 've hauled the anchors in And detached the shackle pin; Stored the cable, mines and buoys all awav; And the mine caps, strung along On the iron girders strong, Hang like bells to chime the gladsome Christmas dav. Safe is each torpedo yawl. Hark ! I hear the bugle call To the toothsome feast and fragrant Christmas pipes ! Here 's a toast, dear friends, to vou And your uniform of blue — Merry Christmas 'neath the glorious Stars and Stripes! Little Rimes of the Garrison. 51 THE SOLDIER'S NEW YEAR. Fare you well, O pretty lasses! We have overstayed our passes, And we 're sure to get restricted and a fine; So we '11 drink another bout. As we watch the Old Year out, "O' kindliness for days o' auld lang syne." Where 's a hat and overcoat? We '11 not miss another boat, For the glad New Year has now replaced the Old; And we '11 go back with a w411. Do our sentence in the "mill," Ere our resolutions freeze out in the cold. For the bravest battles fought Are not alwavs on the spot Where the fiery bullets rain down far and wide ; But where voices from within Seem to urge your soul to sin. And your spirit wins a victory inside. While fierce howls the winter storm, In the barracks snug and warm Curls the fragrant smoke from many peaceful pipes; And the uniform of blue Stands for all that 's good and true. In the land where waves the glorious Stars and Stripes. [Courtesy ''Army and Navy Life.''} Liitli I\n)i< s of flic Garrison. 53 WHEN "FIRE CALL" IM.OWS. Vou talk about the scary times on ancient battle-fields, Where arrows fell like pointed hail against the glitterin' shields; Fair memory's steed you 'd best rein in and check its ancient prance ; There 's excitement in the present, at a soldier's dance. If you happen to be waltzin' with your Lily or your Rose, You '11 change it to a quickstep If "Fire Call" blows. I remember once attending a jolly soldier hop, And settin' next to Sally gettin' ready for to pop The all-important question, when we heard the bugle blow. 'Twas just a practice "Call to Arms," but each one had to go. And by the time that "Recall" blew the ball had reached its close; Rut even "Call to Arms" is tame When "Fire Call" blows. 54 Little Rimes of the Garrison. You 're dancin' with your Tootsie "Merry Widow's" soft refrain, When all at once the bugle's sound cuts in with lusty strain; Uncanny notes of "Fire Call" go up your spine in creeps, And all the frightened wimmen folks are faintin' 'round in heaps! You beat it for the open — no livin' human's woes Could stop a reg'lar soldier man When "Fire Call" blows. As "Recall" sounds 3^ou run amuck a soldier, khaki-clad. "And did your Tootsie Wootsie faint?" you ask the stalwart lad. He gives you one long starin' look that all your courage saps — By the fourteen jumpin' tom-cats, there are bars upon his straps!* And like a flash you fade away, to go back and propose; Explain to Sally why you git When "Fire Call" blows * "Bars upon his straps." A soldier may not aldress an officsr except officially, and by permission of his sergeant. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 55 Little l\iu]('<^ oj the (in. 57 PLANTIN' MINES. (A Toast to the Ninth Mine Company, C. A. C.) We 've soldiered in artillery, both in the field and coast, Tho' I ain't much on braggin' and hate to make the boast. We 've hit ihe road some lively with horse and caisson too, And with a twelve-inch coast gun we 've bored some targets thro'; But it ain't to praise the big guns I 've written these few lines. But to toast the Ninth (Mine) Company and its Plantin' mines. It 's early in the summer-time, that 's when the fun begins, And keeps you steppin' lively till you wish yourself was twins; And \ou hustle out the vawl-l)oats, notin' of the water's looks, Little Rimes of the Garrison. Get your mines and buoys and anchors, cable coils and sister hooks, As you wait the tide incomin', then to each his work assigns; But it 's often strenuous business when you 're Plantin' mines. You 're aboard the big mine-planter and the wave 5 are runnin' high ; You get just the least bit seasick, wonderin' if you 're goin' to die; And your brain gets somewhat tangled and you lose your old- time spunk, And you wonder what in thunder is the use of all this junk; But you 've 'listed for your country to protect its vast confines, Even if you heave up Jonah while you 're Plantin' mines. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 59 Now you realize in winter-time when outdoor work i^, done, x\nd you see a cleaner wrestlin' with the snow on some big gun ; When you 're gathered in December 'round the gala festal board, That for joys of this same season, you can very well afford To spend the fleetin' summer-time with ropes and heavin' hues. To the Ninth a Merry Christmas afte Plantin' mines! Little Runes of the (nirrisoii. 6 1 JAttle Rimes of the Garrison. 63 "MESS CALL." I love to hear the bugle call. Its silvery notes so clear Seem always like a lovin' voice a-callin' in my ear. But that ain't so of "Reveille." It busts my sleep in two; And "Drill Call" gets so tiresome! I like to hear "Tattoo,' And "Recall" 's a prime favorite, but it ain't hard to guess The call that I love most of all — It 's "Soupie," known a:? "]\Iess'' Perhaps vour drillin' rookies green ! You 'd love to turn \m in ' You 've drilled and sweat and cussed a streak, and then begun again, And faced 'em 'round and faced 'em back, and ordered "For- ward march !" You wished they 'd ginger up a bit and get a little starch, But like a worn-out dish-rag each is slouching more or less; Tho' rookies learn one thing right quick, And that 's the call "To Mess." 64 IaUIc Rimes of the Garrison. It 's queer how soldiers kick on mess! You 'd think 'em skin and bones And dvin' with the tumm}^-ache to hear their growls and groans If Captain also buys his grub from out the company store, Thev '11 swear he gets the outside fruit and leaves them but the core. Oh yes! the cook gets knocked on too, and even I confess. For double pay I wouldn't be The STEWARD of that mess! The non-coms don't escape their share, and each one gets a rap; So when the kitchen you pohce, just do it up with snap; Be sure thev ain't no angle-worms or centipedes or bugs A-lurkin' in the vegetables! Be sure to peel the spuds; And when above the army range to fix the hre you stoop. Don't scatter coal and cinders in the pot of army soup. And hel]nn' thus to make things right, your comrades all will bless The soldier and musician man Who wrote that call "To Mess." Little Rimes of the Garrison. 65 "OVERCOATS!" Whene'er I hear "First Call" a-sounding, Its echoes sweet and clear resounding Through the crispy, wintry atmosphere, From out the bugle's golden throat, There 's something missing in its note, Unless attached unto its ending These bars the morning frosts a-rending : "Overcoats! Overcoats! Overcoats!" Sometimes it 's "Guard Mount," "First Call" warning, So clear and freezing cold the morning! iVnd the soldiers all, both young and old. Unmindful of the ice afloat, Within the grim old fortress' moat. Are listening for the strain that 's ending. Upon this chilly day befriending: "Overcoats! Overcoats! Overcoats!" Perhaps "Retreat," First Call" arousing From "bunk fatigue" so sweet a-drowsing; The soldier springs upon his feet. As breaking through his dreams remote He hears the "First Call's" lusty note. And listens close to hear its ending, These added chords a sweet charm blending: "Overcoats! Overcoats! Overcoats!" « times the moat has fish in." o. In the torpedo yawls." Little Rimes of the Garrison. 131 THE PROVO'.* If you 're livin' in the Army and your Pa 's a soldier man, You may sometime have a casematef for a home In the walls of some old fortress built upon the castle plan, And there 's miles and miles of rooms where boys can roam. And sometimes the moat has fish in, like the one at Ft. Monroe From your bedroom window you a line may cast; But this pleasure is forbidden by the "Old Man," the K. O.J And the Provo' 's goin' to get you If you don't run fast! For there 's typhoid in them fishes, in the oysters and the crabs; And the Provo' 's watching everywhere for you, And you can't escape that sergeant when he makes a start and grabs Right where you expect him not to do. One time he caught us swingin' in some new-hung window frames. And for just a minute stood and stared aghast; Then the cuss-words 'at he uttered would have matched the bluest flames, . And you bet he almost got us, But we run so fast ! *Provo Sergeant — Police Sergeaut. tCasemate — Rofims in walls of fort. jThe K. O. — Commanding Officer, familiarly known as the "Old Man. 132 Little Rimes of the Gat ri son. And one time u])on the ramparts we were playin' in some tar, With our hands and arms about as black as sin. And that bloomin' Provo' saw us from the (:^uard-house door afar. My! He scared me so 'at time 'at I fell in; And the words 'at Ma and Pa said, and the nurse 'at cleaned me up, As she greased, and scraped, and washed and scrubbed, and sassed, Would have filled to runnin' over of ha])piness the cup Of that Provo' man 'at gets you. If vou don't run fast ! And one time I pasted papers on llie milky, silky feet Of the Missus K. O.'s Persian Thomas cat. And the yowling oi that feline, as the bugle blew "Retreat" Made me wonder where that Provo' Sergeant 's at. Gee! He almost nabbed me 'at time as I beat it down the road, X'aultin' thro' a casemate window as I ]oassed, Buttin' in the K. O.'s stryker* and upsettin' all his load, And that Provo' nearly had me. But I run too fast ! ♦Stryker — A soldier employed as a strvant. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 133 So I 'm longin' for vacation, with its misty summer sky, And the thousand goodly stunts 'at I can do; For there 's divin' and there 's swimmin' from torpedo yawls nearby. We must surely show that Provo' sumpin' new. For he 's takin' life too easy as he drives them prisoners out, And he needs some fresh amusements 'at will last. Like a-chasin' kids from mischief in the casemates 'round about; And a-makin' like to mill 'em, * If thev don't run fast! *"Mill 'em" — Put them in the guard-house. lAttle Rimes of the Garrison. 135 THE RECRUIT. To Robert Warrkn Love, the Sergeant's Baby. Have you heard about the last recruit, That 'listed t' other day? He isn't very big. I 'm 'fraid He '11 scarcely draw his pay. He 's good at doing bunk fatigue And kicking, too, I guess, But, unlike other soldiers, he Don't kick about the mess. The ladies think he 's just as sweet, And call him "Dear" and "Dove"! Indeed, he must be Cupid's own, Because his name is Love! Little Rimes of the Garrison. 137 THE BABY BUGLER. He awakens when "Reveille" heralds the morn, And he blows all the calls on his little tin horn. The men call him "Buster," and 'most every day With Daddy he goes to the barracks to play. To attend all formations his duty he feels. And he comes to attention and cracks his small heels. And with ringlets uncovered clasps cap to his breast, x\s "Retreat" booms salute to the sun in the west. 138 Little Rimes of the Garrison. And the flag is swift lowered ; still statue-like stands Till the last note is sounded ; then waves his small hands And, calling his dog, how they race o'er parade. And make good for the couple of minutes that strayed ! Then back to his quarters where motherling keeps A watch, as her baby boy quietly sleeps. And the lady moon peeps o'er the ramparts so grim And the "Tattoo" sounds faintlv his lullabv hvmn. Little Rimes of the Garrison. 139 FINIS. Good-bye, little Comrade ! We ' ve met and we 've parted ; Together we 've read them, these garrison rimes. They ' ve harked to our music, the brave, the true-hearted , And cheered with their praises our efforts betimes. Good-bye, little Comrade! The bugle calls sweetly. We 've mingled our heart-thoughts — the laughter and tears; The moments unnoted still passing so fleetly, The waves of the tide of the outgoing years. Good-bye, little Comrade! The bugle, still sounding, Calls each to our duty a separate way; The mists of uncertainty ofttimes surrounding The love and the valor and truth of to-day. Good-bye — and mayhap some far garrison find us With glad hearts attuned to the new rimes we write; The filmy mists risen, adrift far behind us; The bugle soft crooning the "Taps" and Good-night! . . -^^^ V^ ^^^'^ .^ '%/^ >-\xN^' ,1^ ^, ^>io^s* .^' ^^ .'N ,0o^ r. .-N^ 8 1 \ "^ \V ^.4>- .^.-'•/V » 1 \ \ V ,C\^ ■•/■, .nN^' A^ V ^f> •/' -? -^ j^f^^% -^. .~^^- ,^.;:^^'/^.^^, ^' ^^ -''■'" ■^ ri o 0' •/> '^i/^ -' ^\ 11 N <. V-' ^"■^ V ^ t -^^^ ^-^\ ^-^ ' ^^"'"^'--^ /. 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