ClassJEUlM 
 BookjMkSijL 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
A LITTLE BOOK 
 
 OF 
 
 HOOSIER VERSE 
 
 By 
 
 0/ W. COXEN 
 
 j^p^r. -| 
 

 Copyright, 1922 
 
 BY 
 
 OMAE W. COXEN 
 
 APR -I 1922 
 g)[;LA659450 
 
 ^>^ 
 
 M 
 
 HAMMOND PRESS 
 
 W. B. CONKEY COMPANY 
 
 CHiCAQO 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 The Days That Used to Be 5 
 
 The Old Beech Tree 8 
 
 Thinking of the Past 10 
 
 Those Old Carpet Slippers 12 
 
 Mother's Punkin Pies 14 
 
 A Cup of Sassafras 16 
 
 My Little Boy Blue 18 
 
 Treasures 19 
 
 Tom and Bill and Joe 21 
 
 Microbes 23 
 
 The Music of the Old Village Bells 25 
 
 Just a Dream of Nellie 27 
 
 The Valley of Sunshine and Dreams 29 
 
 When the Leaves Turn from Green to Red and Gold 30 
 
 My Old Violin 32 
 
 Take Care, Take Care 33 
 
 Some Folks are Hard to Satisfy 35 
 
 Snapper at the End 37 
 
 Chasing a Butterfly ^ 38 
 
 Stop! Look! Listen! 39 
 
 The Drummer's Dream 40 
 
 To Our Flag 42 
 
 Indiana 43 
 
 The Bigger, Better Town 45 
 
 Be a Booster 48 
 
 Where the Big Round Dollars Grow 50 
 
 You Can't Lay By a Single Red Cent 51 
 
 The Famous Golden Rule 53 
 
 Keep Smiling ^(^ 
 
 The Main Kazabo 58 
 
 Even As You and I CO 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 When I Worked on the Team 61 
 
 The Night That I Made Hay 63 
 
 Case of Blues 65 
 
 The Dark and Rainy Day 66 
 
 Opportunity Knocks 67 
 
 To the Politician 68 
 
 Pm from the U. S. A 69 
 
 Cheer Up 70 
 
 The Wise Guy 71 
 
 The College Youth 72 
 
 Peculiar Brown 73 
 
 Here and Hereafter 74 
 
 War Time Rhymes 77 
 
 Preparedness 79 
 
 Soak the Kaiser 80 
 
 The Man Under Thirty-one 82 
 
 That Far Off Land of France 84 
 
 Halt the Hun 87 
 
 They're Coming, Bill 89 
 
 When the Boys Come Home Again 91 
 
 The Kaiser 92 
 
 Safe Over Sea 94 
 
 Better Buy a Bond 96 
 
 The Old Y. M. C. A 98 
 
 When the Boys Come 100 
 
 The Armistice Is Signed 101 
 
 What Shall We Do with Bill? 103 
 
 The Limited Service Man 105 
 
 P. B. Q 107 
 
 That Was the Day 109 
 
 You Must Be an American Ill 
 
 The Kid Is Home Again 113 
 
 Will They Be Our Heroes Then 115 
 
A Little Book of Hoosier Verse 
 
 THE DAYS THAT USED TO BE 
 
 Sometimes I get to thinking of the days that used 
 
 to be, 
 And I wonder which ones were the best and 
 
 happiest to me; 
 Then as my thoughts go flitting back across the 
 
 lapse of years, 
 A sort of mist comes to my eyes that is mighty 
 
 close to tears; 
 For I think of all the happy times I had in child- 
 hood's hours. 
 When I wandered, free and careless, like a bee 
 
 among the flowers; 
 With no thought of the future, I would run and 
 
 shout with glee; 
 For all the world was bright and fair, in the days 
 
 that used to be. 
 
 Oh, the days that used to be, when I first attended 
 
 school. 
 To get a little learning, by a certain rote and rule; 
 We had reading and geography, and then 
 
 arithmetic. 
 Before the time for recess came, when we run 
 
 out so quick 
 
 5 
 
A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 To get to playing blackman and many other 
 
 games; 
 But it's been so long ago now, that I've forgot 
 
 their names. 
 I thought that I was happy then, and I think that 
 
 you'll agree 
 That the sun was always shining bright, in the 
 
 days that used to be. 
 
 Oh, the days that used to be, when in young man- 
 hood's prime, 
 I went courting some fair maiden I regarded as 
 
 sublime; 
 She had a winning winsome smile, and she was 
 
 wondrous fair; 
 She was indeed a fairy queen, in my castles in 
 
 the air. 
 Her form was near perfection, and starry were 
 
 her eyes, 
 I thought if I could win her I would surely get a 
 
 prize; 
 But now as I look backward, it's very plain to me, 
 That the moonlight made me foolish in the days 
 
 that used to be. 
 
 Oh, the days that used to be, when wife and I 
 
 first wed; 
 Though since that happy time many, many years 
 
 have fled; 
 We've trudged along life's rugged road, hand in 
 
 hand together; 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 
 
 And it hasn't been all sunshine, for we've had 
 
 some stormy weather; 
 But the man who isn't wedded, little knows the 
 
 thrills he misses, 
 By not living in a cottage on bread and cheese 
 
 and kisses; 
 For when the babe was old enough to dandle on 
 
 my knee, 
 My cup of happiness was filled in the days that 
 
 used to be. 
 
 Oh, the days that used to be, the days that used 
 
 to be, 
 Bring many recollections that are very dear to me; 
 And I never can forget them, and I couldn't if Td 
 
 try; 
 Though it may be that I sometimes their glamour 
 
 glorify; 
 For when I'm sitting all alone a voice will say 
 
 to me, 
 "You thought that yoii were happy in the days 
 
 that used to be, 
 But if you'll quit your dreaming, I think you'll 
 
 find somehow. 
 That the happiest moments of your life are in 
 
 the joyous now." 
 
A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE OLD BEECH TREE 
 
 Say, Jack, do you remember now 
 
 When you and I were boys? 
 We thought we had some troubles then. 
 
 But now they seem Hke joys. 
 Of all the happy times I've had, 
 
 None seem so sweet to me. 
 As those I spent with you, my friend. 
 
 Beneath that old beech tree. 
 
 That old beech tree, beneath whose shade. 
 
 When we were boys, we often laid, 
 
 And gazing through the branches high, 
 
 We watched the clouds go floating by. 
 
 On summer days, so bright and fair, 
 
 And builded castles in the air. 
 
 And talked of what we'd do when men. 
 
 Don't you wish those days could come again? 
 
 You said you'd be a soldier bold. 
 
 And would great battles win; 
 While I would preach the gospel true, 
 
 And save the world from sin; 
 But in life's fiercest battles now. 
 
 Don't you often long to be 
 A barefoot boy a'lying there 
 
 Beneath that old beech tree? 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 9 
 
 Though I'm often disappointed, 
 
 When my efforts meet defeat; 
 But I have this consolation, 
 
 And to me it's very sweet. 
 For through the mystic glamour now. 
 
 That hides the past from me, 
 I think I see two barefoot boys. 
 
 Beneath that old beech tree. 
 
 That old beech tree, beneath whose shade. 
 
 When we were boys, we often laid; 
 
 And gazing through the branches high. 
 
 We watched the clouds go floating by 
 
 On summer days, so bright and fair, 
 
 And builded castles in the air, 
 
 And talked of what we'd do when men. 
 
 Don't you wish those days could come again? 
 
10 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THINKING OF THE PAST 
 
 "Jever" sit out in the kitchen 
 
 When yer daily toil was done, 
 And all the folks had gone to bed 
 
 And left you there alone, 
 When everything was quiet 
 
 But the clock upon the shelf 
 With its everlastin' tickin' 
 
 Like 'twas talkin' to itself? 
 
 Now while yer sittin' out there 
 
 Why just as like as not 
 Thoughts come to you of far-off days 
 
 And friends almost forgot. 
 Then you'll wander through the woodlands 
 
 Where you'll hear the drone of bees 
 And the music of the little birds 
 
 A singin' 'mong the trees. 
 
 Now while you sit there thinkin' 
 
 Don't it sometimes to you seem 
 That you are nothin' but a leaf 
 
 A floatin' down life's stream, 
 Which way up near its fountainhead 
 
 Makes music with its flow, 
 But when the valley broadens 
 
 The goin's mighty slow? 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 11 
 
 But when you near the harbor 
 
 Where life's voyage is to end, 
 You'll wish sometimes you could go back 
 
 And make the trip again. 
 But as it is, by God decreed. 
 
 You can go back no more. 
 He'll let you when the evening comes 
 
 Dream 'bout the days of yore. 
 
 So next time that you sit alone, 
 
 Just look back up the stream, 
 You'll see some pleasant places — 
 
 And the sun will cast a gleam 
 Of gorgeous golden radiance 
 
 Around that little cot. 
 Where you passed the days of childhood. 
 
 Which can never be forgot. 
 
 So we should try to make the best 
 
 Of the journey as we go; 
 And not to fret or worry. 
 
 But float along as slow. 
 As we can see the beauties 
 
 Presented to our view. 
 Before we reach that harbor 
 
 Which we all are going to. 
 
12 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THOSE OLD CARPET SLIPPERS 
 
 Though dear to my heart are the scenes of my 
 childhood, 
 A thought will oft come I would like to subdue, 
 As I think of a day I spent in the wildwood. 
 
 Aimlessly plucking the roses that grew; 
 Till I came to a stream where I went in a 
 swimming, 
 And at night I slipped up to the back kitchen 
 door, 
 To try and get in, without getting a trimming. 
 From those old carpet slippers my dear mother 
 wore. 
 Those old fashioned slippers, those flexible 
 slippers. 
 Those leather bound slippers my dear mother 
 wore. 
 
 They were faded and worn and all full of stitches, 
 
 I could see as over her knee I would turn; 
 Then she played a "rat tat," on the seat of my 
 breeches. 
 And learned me a lesson, I could not unlearn. 
 As she let me up, in a voice that was tearful, 
 
 I promised never to go there any more. 
 And from that day to this I have always been 
 fearful. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 13 
 
 Of those old carpet slippers my dear mother 
 
 wore. 
 Those persuasive slippers, those dust raising 
 
 slippers, 
 Those pant's warming slippers my dear mother 
 
 wore. 
 
 Since then, I've seen some joy and some sorrow; 
 As far from the scenes of childhood I'd roam, 
 And it may be that sometimes I trouble would 
 borrow. 
 As I thought of those slippers and mother at 
 home. 
 But since then, our mother has been taken from 
 us, 
 And is now wearing slippers on that Golden 
 Shore. 
 But as long as I live, I'll remember my promise. 
 And will cherish those slippers my dear mother 
 wore. 
 Those old fashioned slippers, those leather bound 
 slippers. 
 Those highly prized slippers my dear mother 
 wore. 
 
14 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 MOTHER'S PUNKIN PIES 
 
 I will sing to you a little song 
 
 You never heard before, 
 'Tis not about an old arm chair, 
 
 Nor the shawl your mother wore; 
 'Tis not about the pictures 
 
 That are hanging on the wall, 
 But the fondest recollection 
 
 That my mem'ry can recall. 
 
 It takes me back to other days. 
 
 To the place where I was born; 
 The house stands way back from the road 
 
 'Mong fields of waving corn; 
 I see mother in the kitchen — 
 
 Smell the sav'ry odors rise — 
 She's sifting and she's stewing 
 
 Yes, she's baking "punkin" pies. 
 
 I've read 'bout all the poets — 
 
 Yes, from Riley back to Burns — 
 They've written many pretty things 
 
 For which the heart oft yearns. 
 But it seems so very strange to me, 
 
 Yes, fills me with surprise, 
 That none have sung the praises 
 
 Of their mother's "punkin" pies. 
 
 In my travels o'er this country, 
 
 (Man must dine where'er he goes) 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 15 
 
 I have eaten with the wild red men — 
 
 Feasted at Delmonico's 
 Where they served me dainty dishes 
 
 That I very dearly prize, 
 But not one could hold a candle 
 
 To my mother's "punkin" pies. 
 
 I have been married long, long years; 
 
 My wife can stew and bake. 
 She often serves me "punkin" pies — 
 
 Not like mother used to make. 
 Oh, I feel so sad and lonely, 
 
 And the tears come to my eyes. 
 For life don't seem worth living 
 
 Without mother's "punkin" pies. 
 
 So when I leave this earthly scene 
 
 And reach that golden shore. 
 Where the wicked cease from troubling 
 
 And the chilling storms are o'er; 
 Then when I meet my mother 
 
 In those mansions in the skies. 
 The first thing that I'll ask her. 
 
 Have you any "punkin" pies? 
 
 So now my song is ended. 
 
 And your pardon I implore, 
 If I've caused you pain and anguish, 
 
 'Bout those happy days of yore. 
 Some one may say 'tis sacrilege 
 
 And my verses criticize 
 But he surely ne'er was hungry 
 
 For his mother's "punkin" pies. 
 
16 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 A CUP OF SASSAFRAS 
 
 The German likes his lager beer, 
 
 No doubt he thinks it is fine; 
 The Englishman his half and half, 
 
 The Frenchman likes his wine; 
 But to the old time Hoosier 
 
 There's nothing can surpass 
 The appetizing fragrance of 
 
 A cup of sassafras. 
 
 When winter's chilling storms are o'er 
 
 And the frost is out the ground. 
 When round about on every hand 
 
 Harbingers of spring are found. 
 You'll find that none are surer — 
 
 You can see it as you pass — 
 Piled on the grocer's counter a 
 
 Whole lot of sassafras. 
 
 And now my recollection 
 
 Takes me back to other days. 
 To those glad scenes of childhood, 
 
 Which the poets always praise; 
 And to me there comes a picture. 
 
 Which from mem'ry ne'er will pass, 
 *Tis a picture of my mother 
 
 Pouring out the sassafras. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 17 
 
 I, in fancy, see the table 
 
 With the family gathered round; 
 I hear the clink of dishes, 
 
 'Tis to me a pleasant sound — 
 But the best part of that picture 
 
 Can come no more, alas — 
 To have my mother help me 
 
 To a cup of sassafras. 
 
 So when my time has come to go 
 
 To that home beyond the blue. 
 Away up there beyond the stars — 
 
 Holes for angels to peep through; 
 I know I'll not be happy 
 
 When the springtime rolls around. 
 Unless I find that patch of woods 
 
 Where the sassafras is found. 
 
18 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 MY LITTLE BOY BLUE 
 
 My little boy blue, when evening comes 
 
 Will climb upon my knee, 
 With many a kiss and kind caress. 
 
 With many a shout of glee. 
 So then I toddle him up and down 
 
 Till at last he goes to rest — 
 He's off on a trip to shut-eye-town — 
 
 With his head upon my breast. 
 
 While little boy blue is lying there 
 
 I gaze down in his eyes; 
 And thoughts will come of a far-ofif day 
 
 With fair autumnal skies; 
 When little boy blue has no golden hair, 
 
 And has laid all his toys away. 
 Shall be a man, with worldly care, 
 
 While his dad is old and gray. 
 
 Will little boy blue, when that day comes. 
 
 Forget the times he's had 
 When he was just a little tyke 
 
 A-riding the knees of dad? 
 Although I know this may be true. 
 
 The thought don't make me sad. 
 For perhaps some day a little boy blue 
 
 Will call me his gran'dad. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 19 
 
 TREASURES 
 
 In my home are many treasures, some of them are 
 
 old and rare; 
 There are pictures of departed friends, and a curl 
 
 of golden hair; 
 There's the ring my mother gave me many, many 
 
 years agone, 
 That I'll keep till I shall meet her, when a brighter 
 
 day shall dawn; 
 There's an heirloom brought by father, from a 
 
 land far o'er the sea. 
 And I've promised that I'll keep it, that it ne'er 
 
 shall part from me. 
 All of these I fondly cherish and 'twould pain 
 
 me much to lose; 
 But I've something far more precious, 'tis a pair 
 
 of baby shoes. 
 
 Just a pair of baby shoes with battered toes and 
 run down heel; 
 
 And when I gaze upon them, tears into my eyes 
 will steal. 
 
 For they bring a recollection, time itself cannot 
 destroy. 
 
 And in fancy I can see again, a little blue eyed 
 boy, 
 
 Running down the street to meet me, as I home- 
 ward make my way. 
 
20 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 Tired of life and all its worries, at the closing 
 
 of the day; 
 Could I feel again the kisses that his baby lips 
 
 have given, 
 It would be the same as tasting of the higher joys 
 
 of Heaven. 
 
 There's a rose a sweetheart gave me, that dear 
 
 girl I see her yet; 
 She believed that I was faithless, which caused 
 
 tears of vain regret. 
 Though the hand of fate was 'gainst us, and we 
 
 both tried to forget, 
 I believe 'twould been far better, if we two had 
 
 never met. 
 There's a book mark that my sister gave to me 
 
 at Christmas tide; 
 And the sled that brother made me, upon which 
 
 we used to slide. 
 So among so many treasures it seems very hard 
 
 to choose. 
 But there's something pulls my heartstrings when 
 
 I see those little shoes. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 21 
 
 TOM AND BILL AND JOE 
 
 As I'm sitting in the gloaming 
 
 And I hear the play, 
 Then my thoughts will go a-roaming. 
 
 Back to scenes of yesterday; 
 Back to days long since departed, 
 
 When with Tom and Bill and Joe, 
 Everyone of us light-hearted. 
 
 Played the games of long ago. 
 
 What a wonderful projection 
 
 Then is cast on memory's screen; 
 Years and worries by deflection. 
 
 All are banished from the scene; 
 As the screen unrolls before me. 
 
 By some magic hand 'tis turned, 
 Tom and Bill and Joe implore me. 
 
 Oft to meet them I have yearned. 
 
 As I hear their voices calling, 
 
 Calling me across the years. 
 Then the teardrops start to falling, 
 
 And the picture disappears. 
 But I know, when life is ended, 
 
 And I leave this world of woe. 
 When up There I have ascended, 
 
 I'll meet Tom and Bill and Joe. 
 
^ A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 When we all shall meet up yonder, 
 
 In that far off distant land; 
 Not a one will ever wander 
 
 From that happy boyish band. 
 There where troubles cannot sever, 
 
 Then with Tom and Bill and Joe, 
 We will play those games forever. 
 
 That we played long years ago. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 23 
 
 MICROBES 
 
 The doctors now days tell us 
 
 That there's microbes in the air, 
 That these death-dealing vermin 
 
 Are round us everywhere. 
 Now while their the'ry may be true, 
 
 I have my doubts of this 
 When they tell me that there's microbes 
 
 In a good, old-fashioned kiss. 
 
 Did you ever "exchange microbes" 
 
 With the sweetest girl you know 
 While sitting in the parlor with 
 
 The light turned way down low? 
 If you didn't I can tell you 
 
 You have missed a lot of fun. 
 So if you'll listen to me 
 
 I will tell you how it's done. 
 
 First you sit down on the sofa 
 
 And you squeeze her little hand. 
 Then you put your arm around her 
 
 Firm as any iron band; 
 Then you draw her up close to you, 
 
 So there'll be no chance for slips, 
 Place her head upon your shoulder 
 
 With her upturned ruby lips — 
 
 Then with anticipation 
 
 Into her eyes gaze down; 
 
24 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 (The color doesn't matter, if 
 
 They're blue or gray or brown.) 
 
 Way down in their depths you'll see 
 A glimpse of paradise 
 
 And you vow you won't change places 
 With an angel in the skies. 
 
 Now don't be in a hurry, 
 
 For haste may spoil the game. 
 But when she looks up at you 
 
 And her cheeks are all aflame; 
 Then with a gentle movement 
 
 Raise up her dainty chin, 
 So when you're good and ready 
 
 All you've got to do's wade in. 
 
 Now don't pounce down upon her 
 
 Like a mink a-sucking blood, 
 But, light as gently on her lips 
 
 As a bee upon a bud, 
 And when you've drawn the microbes 
 
 From within their fairy den. 
 Just take the time to draw your breath 
 
 And then wade in again. 
 
 Now what the doctors tell us 
 
 May every word be true. 
 But when I have a case like this 
 
 I don't feel scared, — do you? 
 Why if ten thousand microbes 
 
 Were in her every breath 
 I'd never ask the Lord above 
 
 To send me sweeter death. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 25 
 
 THE MUSIC OF THE OLD VILLAGE BELLS 
 
 Upon a summer's e'en, I returned to the scene, 
 
 Where I'd spent many, happy, happy hours. 
 There's none left to greet me, upon the village 
 green 
 Where I played when a child among the 
 flowers. 
 The school house on the hill is standing up there 
 still. 
 The birds are singing gaily in the dells, 
 But the years had been long since I had strolled 
 along. 
 To the music of the old village bells. 
 
 As I strolled down the street — to my mem'ry so 
 sweet. 
 All the faces that I met were so strange, 
 'Till I met an old man, whom I took by the hand. 
 
 And I asked him the causes of the change. 
 Then the old man so gray, from his eye wipes 
 away, 
 A tear when he the story sadly tells. 
 With many words of praise for friends of other 
 days. 
 To the music of the old village bells. 
 
 When the story was done^ at the set of the sun, 
 I was feeling so unhappy and lone. 
 
26 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 The friends of other days had long since passed 
 away, 
 
 But no longer their loss I will bemoan. 
 If when I'm cold and still, I can rest by the rill. 
 
 That flows so gently through the shady dells. 
 If at the close of day, I may be laid away 
 
 To the music of the old village bells. 
 
 The old village bells, whose melody swells 
 
 In the evening over the lea. 
 And whose soothing chimes, recall happy times. 
 
 Spent with friends that were so dear to me. 
 My heart's full of love for those gone above, 
 
 A sigh from my bosom now wells — 
 I'm longing in truth, for friends of my youth. 
 
 As I list to the old village bells. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 27 
 
 JUST A DREAM OF NELLIE 
 
 The sweet face of an angel hovered 'round me as 
 I slept, 
 And in dreams I lived again those happy hours, 
 When with my sweetheart Nellie, upon a sum- 
 mer's day 
 We wandered hand in hand among the flowers ; 
 It was then I told that story, which with telling 
 ne'er grows old, 
 It was then she promised she would be my 
 bride; 
 But by cruel fate's decree, it can never, never be, 
 For the angels called my sweetheart from my 
 side. 
 
 In the little village churchyard, upon a summer's 
 day, 
 When the golden sun was sinking in the west, 
 Underneath the old oak tree, that is standing on 
 the hill. 
 They laid the form of Nellie down to rest; 
 My heart was buried with her, when they laid 
 her 'neath the sod. 
 And I wished that I was lying by her, too, 
 For until we meet above, to the one I dearly love, 
 To my darling sweetheart Nellie I'll be true. 
 
28 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 It was just a dream of Nellie, that came to me last 
 night, 
 Just as a vision of an angel bright and fair. 
 But it brought a gleam of gladness to my poor 
 aching heart. 
 And it drove away my sorrow and my care; 
 For she threw her arms around me and pressed 
 her lips to mine, 
 I, in fancy, even now feel that caress; 
 If to me she had been spared, she would all my 
 joys have shared 
 And together lived a life of happiness. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 29 
 
 THE VALLEY OF SUNSHINE AND DREAMS 
 
 The're times when my heart's sad and lonely. 
 
 When the friends whom I love prove untrue; 
 When by this cold world I'm forsaken, 
 
 It's then that my thoughts turn to you; 
 In fancy, again, I live over. 
 
 Those bright days, with you, and it seems 
 That sometime, again, I'll be with you. 
 
 In a valley of sunshine and dreams. 
 
 Some day when the roses are blooming. 
 
 In the valley of sunshine and dreams; 
 Some day when the birds are all singing. 
 
 Their soulmates the tenderest themes; 
 Some day you and I will be roaming. 
 
 Carefree by the clear purling streams; 
 For heartaches will all have been banished 
 
 From the valley of sunshine and dreams. 
 
 Though my days seem all filled with trouble, 
 
 And my heart has known pain and regret; 
 The sound of your dear voice would cheer me, 
 
 Could you tell me that you love me yet; 
 At night as I lay on my pillow. 
 
 The moon through my window oft gleams. 
 Then I long with you, dear, to be strolling, 
 
 Through the valley of sunshine and dreams. 
 
30 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 WHEN THE LEAVES TURN FROM GREEN 
 TO RED AND GOLD 
 
 When the leaves begin to turn from green to red 
 and gold 
 And a haze obscures the scenes across the 
 wold, 
 There's a pain conies to my heart and I know I 
 soon must part 
 From the ones I love for I am growing old — 
 Though the fact may be well hidden, yet this 
 thought will come unbidden. 
 When the leaves begin to turn from green to 
 red and gold. 
 
 When the leaves begin to turn from green to red 
 and gold, 
 When nature in all her beauty I behold. 
 Oh! the woods down in the glen, make a pretty 
 picture then, 
 Where so often with my sweetheart I have 
 strolled — 
 But a tear bedims my eye, as I think of days gone 
 
 by, 
 
 When the leaves begin to turn from green to 
 red and gold. 
 
 When the leaves begin to turn from green to red 
 and gold. 
 Then may I be laid away beneath the mold 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 31 
 
 Of the churchyard in the glade, underneath the 
 oak trees' shade, 
 In the evening when the village bells are 
 tolled— 
 There to rest until that morn — until Gabriel blows 
 his horn. 
 And all the leaves have turned from green to 
 red and gold. 
 
32 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 MY OLD VIOLIN 
 
 Some people like the music 
 
 Of a military band; 
 And some may like the music 
 
 Played upon pianos grand; 
 While some may like the banjo, 
 
 With its rattle and its din; 
 But I prefer the music 
 
 Of my old violin. 
 
 It has no reputation, 
 
 Dating back to long ago; 
 And who the maker of it was 
 
 I really do not know. 
 It isn't very handsome 
 
 But my faith to it I'll pin 
 For I get the best of music 
 
 From my old violin. 
 
 When the shades of night have gathered 
 
 And I'm sitting by the fire. 
 When my spirits may be drooping 
 
 Needing something to inspire; 
 Then I go and get my treasure 
 
 And I place it 'neath my chin 
 And I draw some soothing music 
 
 From my old violin. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 33 
 
 TAKE CARE, TAKE CARE 
 
 In early life 
 
 'Fore I knew strife 
 Or felt the touch of care, 
 
 Ev'ry morning 
 
 I'd get warning 
 When mother said, "take care, take care," 
 When mother said, "take care." 
 
 As I grew old 
 
 I got more bold 
 And soon I learned to swear; 
 
 When father heard 
 
 Me swear a word 
 He said, "my son, take care, take care." 
 He said, "my son, take care." 
 
 When in my teens, 
 
 I wore blue jeans. 
 For girls I did not care 
 
 And would them tease; 
 
 Some said "don't, please;" 
 And others said, "take care, take care." 
 And others said, "take care." 
 
 And when at last 
 Though years had passed 
 I fell in Cupid's snare; 
 
34 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 My wife will say 
 
 'Bout every day, 
 "Of the baby you take care, take care." 
 "Of the baby you take care." 
 
 I went one night 
 
 When I felt right 
 To church down on the square; 
 
 The preacher said, 
 
 "You'll soon be dead 
 If you do not take care, take care." 
 "If you do not take care." 
 
 So when I die 
 
 And go on high 
 To regions bright and fair; 
 
 St. Peter then 
 
 Will say again, 
 "Why did you not take care, take care?" 
 "Why did you not take care?" 
 
 Then I must go 
 
 Way down below 
 Where they have heat to spare; 
 
 Old Satan may 
 
 To me then say 
 "I guess you best stay there, ah there." 
 "Get in there and stay there." 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 35 
 
 SOME FOLKS ARE HARD TO SATISFY 
 
 Some folks are hard to satisfy, 
 
 (We're not included, you and L) 
 
 Why Jimmie, the baby upon the floor. 
 With playthings round him by the score. 
 Will raise a rumpus and call for more. 
 
 And if he don't get them he begins to cry; 
 
 For some folks are hard to satisfy. 
 
 When Jimmie gets to be about sixteen. 
 
 He thinks he's wise, but he's two thirds green. 
 He goes a-courting some pretty miss, 
 Who finally gives him a wee, small kiss. 
 He never experienced such exquisite bliss; 
 
 For another he'll steal, he'll beg or buy. 
 
 For some folks are hard to satisfy. 
 
 So on a bright, sunshiny day. 
 
 They plight their troth forever and aye; 
 But you know that there is many a slip. 
 Before the cup ever reaches the lip; 
 Especially the one from which lovers sip. 
 
 They quarrel and part without even a sigh. 
 
 For they both were hard to satisfy. 
 
 The once pretty girl grows to be an old maid; 
 
 Long, lean and lank, like she's raised in the 
 shade. 
 She lives by herself, in a cot, all alone, 
 And says, that naught can ever atone 
 For the loss of her heart — its heavy as stone, 
 
36 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 As she sits and dreams of days gone by. 
 Some folks are hard to satisfy. 
 
 When Jim gets to be about twenty-one, 
 He forgets the girl whom he'd wooed and won. 
 He says as he rolls a cigarette, 
 "I'm the candy kid you can bet." 
 But he finally marries a suffragette; 
 And you can tell, by the look in her eye, 
 That some folks are hard to satisfy. 
 
 He hasn't been married so very long. 
 Till he finds life isn't a grand sweet song. 
 For all his hard earned worldly pelf. 
 That he had laid away on the shelf; 
 His wife will take and spend herself. 
 If he gets a nickel, it must be on the sly. 
 For some folks are hard to satisfy. 
 
 When he gets along towards middle life, 
 
 The property's all in the name of his wife. 
 He's gentle and meek, as any dove. 
 And answers her with a "yes, my love." 
 Yet he nightly prays, to God above. 
 
 To hasten the time when he may die. 
 
 For some folks are hard to satisfy. 
 
 When Jimmie is old and feeble with age; 
 
 When "finis" is written on life's last page, 
 Then the girl whom he had once held dear, 
 Will come and she will shed a tear. 
 Over his cold and silent bier. 
 
 And Jimmie will find when he gets on high 
 
 St. Peter is hard to satisfy. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 37 
 
 SNAPPER AT THE END 
 
 Once I wrote a little verselet, 
 
 Sent it to a magazine; 
 It was 'bout as cute a thing, 
 
 As I had ever seen. 
 But one day it came back to me, 
 
 It was cruel, oh! my friend, 
 For they said to work it over. 
 
 Put a snapper at the end. 
 
 So I tried to work it over, 
 
 But I only made it worse; 
 For I couldn't find a snapper, 
 
 That would fit into my verse. 
 Mr. Editor, I beg your pardon. 
 
 For I mean not to offend. 
 When I say my little verselet. 
 
 Needs no snapper at the end. 
 
 Once again I'm disappointed. 
 
 But the fires of hope still bum, 
 And a tardy recognition, 
 
 I'll be able yet to earn. 
 For I'll keep on persevering, 
 
 Though there's none that will befriend, 
 Then some day I'll write a verselet, 
 
 With a snapper at the end. 
 
38 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 CHASING A BUTTERFLY 
 
 A golden haired boy, on a bright summer's morn, 
 
 Was chasing a butterfly. 
 It's little he knows of the troubles and woes 
 
 That will come to his life by and by; 
 With no burdens to bear, he is free from all care, 
 
 While chasing his butterfly. 
 
 The golden haired boy when he grows to a man 
 
 Still chases a butterfly, 
 When he calls on his love, swears by angels above 
 
 That she'll be his wife by and by. 
 But he'll fall in a snare, if he doesn't beware, 
 
 While chasing a butterfly. 
 
 The golden haired boy when he's aged and gray 
 
 Still chases a butterfly. 
 And to him it seems his childhood dreams 
 
 Will surely come true by and by. 
 But on that last morn, at the sound of the horn. 
 
 He's chasing a butterfly. 
 
 Chasing a butterfly. 
 Just you and I, 
 
 In age or in youth, 
 
 I'll tell you the truth. 
 We're chasing a butterfly. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 39 
 
 STOP! LOOK! LISTEN! 
 
 As along the trail of life I've wandered, 
 I've seen a sign over which I've pondered. 
 It stands by the side of the railroad track; 
 It's written in letters of deepest black. 
 Stop! Look! Listen! There's danger ahead. 
 
 If you would heed that sign in your daily life, 
 You'd see less trouble, less bitter strife; 
 For when you're tempted to go astray. 
 Don't a still, small voice persistently say, 
 Stop! Look! Listen! There's danger ahead? 
 
 When some one casts the stigma of shame, 
 On some unfortunate creature's name; 
 Never repeat the tale you have heard; 
 Had that sign been heeded 'twould have never 
 
 occurred. 
 Stop ! Look ! Listen ! There's danger ahead. 
 
 If you this day haven't done your best; 
 Tonight when you have gone to your rest. 
 You'll see that sign, shining afar. 
 As bright as a mariner's beacon star. 
 Stop! Look! Listen! There's danger ahead. 
 
40 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE DRUMMER'S DREAM 
 
 A gay and handsome drummer, 
 
 Who from home was far away; 
 Slowly to his hotel wandered, 
 
 At the close of one hard day. 
 After checking up his business, 
 
 He goes to his lonely bed, 
 And a thousand fitful fancies 
 
 Flit within his troubled head. 
 
 He dreamed that he lay dying. 
 
 Upon a bed of pain; 
 He felt as if his time had come. 
 
 That he ne'er would rise again; 
 And his mind in retrospection. 
 
 O'er his route goes tripping back. 
 And he thinks of many maidens, 
 
 Whom he'd met along life's track. 
 
 Then the landlord stands beside him. 
 
 Lays his hand upon his brow, 
 And he bends and whispers to him; 
 
 "Are you feeling better now? 
 Do you want to send a message, 
 
 To your sweetheart kind and true? 
 Just speak her name, and I will bring 
 
 Her, forthwith in haste, to you." 
 
 A smile of childlike innocence. 
 Overspread the drummer's face; 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 41 
 
 He upward then extends his arms, 
 
 As if some one to embrace. 
 Then a change comes to his features, 
 
 And the childlike smile has fled. 
 The landlord asks again her name, 
 
 And then the drummer said: — 
 
 "Send for Sue at Indianapolis, 
 
 Or Fannie at Ft. Wayne; 
 Sweet Tillie down at Terre Haute, 
 
 I'd like to see again; 
 There's Alice down at Anderson; 
 
 At Alexandria's Mary; 
 My Rose is still in Richmond, 
 
 And Gertrude's up in Gary. 
 
 My Mamie lives in Muncie; 
 
 And Sadie at South Bend; 
 There's Eva down at Evansville, 
 
 Remember her, too, friend; 
 While Daisy lives in Madison, 
 
 And please do not forget 
 To send some word to Lillian, 
 
 Who lives in Lafayette. 
 
 There's blue-eyed Trix in Elwood, 
 
 Here the drummer turned his head, 
 "I swore that I would wed them all," 
 
 In faint accents he said. 
 He here woke up and looked about, 
 
 And said in some dismay; 
 'Well, I guess I'll have to cut the booze 
 
 Or I'll give myself away." 
 
42 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 TO OUR FLAG 
 
 You're a beautiful flag, with your silver stars, 
 
 And your stripes of white and of red; 
 You're the emblem of freedom, of justice and 
 right, 
 
 For which our forefathers bled; 
 You never have bowed to a tyrant will, 
 
 But have ever waved on high, 
 A symbolic pledge to a fettered host. 
 
 Their rainbow of hope in the sky. 
 
 We cheer you, old flag, wherever you float. 
 
 In country or in city's mart; 
 We greet you, old flag, with the right hand salute, 
 
 You're the pride of each patriot's heart; 
 We love every stripe of your red and your white. 
 
 Every star in your field of blue; 
 We love you, old flag, for the good you have done. 
 
 And the good you are going to do. 
 
 We'll ever defend you, beloved old flag. 
 
 Though dastardly foes may beset; 
 We'll ever prove true to your red, white and blue. 
 
 For you've never been conquered yet; 
 By the heavenly powers, which reign above. 
 
 In whom we have placed our trust, 
 So long as the hearts of our sons beat true. 
 
 You will never trail in the dust. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 43 
 
 INDIANA 
 
 I've traveled many, many miles, 
 
 From the mountains to the sea; 
 I've traveled from the frozen north, 
 
 To the southland's sunny lea; 
 I've traveled o'er this country. 
 
 From the east unto the west; 
 But of all the places I have seen, 
 
 Indiana is the best. 
 
 For my home's in Indiana, 
 
 That good old Hoosier state; 
 Though I often wander far from there, 
 
 I go back soon or late. 
 For there's something always calling. 
 
 And to me it often seems, 
 A voice calls, "Indiana, 
 
 Indiana, in my dreams." 
 
 It may be there's another place 
 
 Where the sun shines just as bright; 
 Where the moonlight's just as mellow. 
 
 When it floods the world at night; 
 Where the stars give off a golden glow. 
 
 Through a soft, transparent sheen; 
 Now it may be there is such a place. 
 
 But it's one I've never seen. 
 
44 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 It may be, in some far-off land, 
 
 The skies are just as blue; 
 The flowers are just as fragrant. 
 
 And may have as bright a hue; 
 While the days may all be perfect. 
 
 In that far-off distant clime; 
 But give me Indiana, 
 
 Indiana, all the time. 
 
 It may be there are woods as green. 
 
 And fields as broad and fair; 
 The scenery of hill and dale. 
 
 Be grand beyond compare; 
 I'll grant that these things may be true, 
 
 But I will not lament; 
 Just give me Indiana, 
 
 Then I will be content. 
 
 For my home's in Indiana, 
 
 That good old Hoosier state. 
 Though I often wander far from there, 
 
 I go back soon or late. 
 For there's something always calling. 
 
 And to me it often seems, 
 A voice calls, "Indiana, 
 
 Indiana, in my dreams." 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 45 
 
 THE BIGGER, BETTER TOWN 
 
 In the silence of last midnight, 
 
 As I sought in vain for sleep, 
 I felt a curious feeling 
 
 Over all my system creep; 
 There I lay, as in a stupor. 
 
 With my eyelids half closed down. 
 And with prophetic vision 
 
 Saw a bigger, better town. 
 
 The factories all were running. 
 
 You could count them by the score; 
 They were owned and run by people. 
 
 Who were once considered poor. 
 I saw people of all races, 
 
 E'en the yellow, black and brown. 
 And one and all were busy. 
 
 In that bigger, better town. 
 
 The streets, well paved and lighted, 
 
 Stretched out for miles and miles. 
 And all the people that I saw 
 
 Had their faces wreathed in smiles; 
 I looked around expecting 
 
 To see at least one frown, 
 But everyone seemed happy, 
 
 In that bigger, better town. 
 
46 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 The merchants all were wealthy; 
 
 The manufacturers, too; 
 The bankers sat and clipped coupons, 
 
 That was all they had to do; 
 The editors all wore silk tiles, 
 
 While the preachers wore a crown; 
 For the churches all were free from debt. 
 
 In that bigger, better town. 
 
 The doctors and the lawyers. 
 
 From business had retired; 
 They had gained of fame and riches, 
 
 All that any heart desired. 
 And they flew about in aeroplanes. 
 
 Dressed out in silken gown. 
 Why the mailman even had a snap. 
 
 In that bigger, better town. 
 
 Of course I was delighted; 
 
 But to me it seemed so strange, 
 That just a few short years could make 
 
 Such a very wondrous change. 
 And I felt somewhat bewildered. 
 
 As I wandered up and down, 
 To try and find some one I knew. 
 
 In this bigger, better town. 
 
 Then after much meandering, 
 I was weary with the quest; 
 
 So sought a seat in the city park. 
 Where I in peace might rest; 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 47 
 
 And while I sat there musing, 
 
 Came a man, with cap and gown. 
 
 Who said he was the mayor. 
 Of this bigger, better town. 
 
 I said to him, pray tell me, 
 
 If you can so arrange. 
 The methods that you have employed. 
 
 To work this wondrous change; 
 While in the days, that have gone by. 
 
 Your place gained some renown. 
 But now it's known both far and wide, 
 
 As the bigger, better town. 
 
 Then up spoke Mr. Mayor; 
 
 "Why, we organized a club. 
 And each one was a booster. 
 
 We banished every "dub." 
 We laid aside dissension. 
 
 On jealousy we'd frown, 
 And we all pulled together. 
 
 For a bigger, better town. 
 
 While it's just a mental picture, 
 
 That I have drawn for you. 
 It would be a grand achievement. 
 
 Could we make it one half true. 
 Then when our toil is ended, 
 
 When our burdens are laid down, 
 We'll each one have a monument. 
 
 In that bigger, better town. 
 
48 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 BE A BOOSTER 
 
 You know there's lots of people 
 
 Hanging round in every town, 
 With their hammers always ready, 
 
 Ready to knock some one down. 
 I don't like those kind of people. 
 
 For they are no good on earth. 
 But I always like a booster, 
 
 One who boosts for all he's worth. 
 
 When the old town needs some boosting, 
 
 Don't hang back and wait to see 
 If some one else is going to do it; 
 
 Wade right in, the boosting's free. 
 No one has a corner on it. 
 
 It is yours as well as his. 
 Throw away your darned old hammer. 
 
 Get into the boosting "biz." 
 
 If they don't do things to suit you. 
 
 Do not say the whole scheme's wrong; 
 You might have the right idea. 
 
 That would boost the thing along; 
 Do not then hang back and hammer. 
 
 Be a leader in the fight, 
 Always keep your horn a-blowing. 
 
 Blow and boost with all your might. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 49 
 
 Though the old town has some failings; 
 
 Just forget them, let men know, 
 All about the many good things. 
 
 That the old town has to show, 
 "Cast your bread upon the water," 
 
 Is a saying trite and true; 
 If you'll always boost for your town, 
 
 Your town then will boost for you. 
 
50 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 WHERE THE BIG ROUND DOLLARS GROW 
 
 There is a spot, I long have sought, 
 
 But so far sought in vain; 
 I've sought for it on the mountain top, 
 
 And on the verdant plain ; 
 I've sought for it by the ocean wide. 
 
 Where the salt tides ebb and flow; 
 But so far I've not discovered that spot, 
 
 Where the Big Round Dollars Grow. 
 
 I've tilled the soil, with willing toil. 
 
 Till the sweatdrops fell like rain; 
 I've caried a load, down a weary road. 
 
 When each step caused me pain, 
 I've toiled and broiled 'neath summer's sun. 
 
 Been chilled by winter's snow; 
 But so far I've not discovered that spot. 
 
 Where the Big Round Dollars Grow. 
 
 While all these years, with toil and tears. 
 
 Have brought naught but regret; 
 I hope and pray, at no far day, 
 
 I'll be successful yet; 
 I see the prize, before my eyes. 
 
 As an ignis fatuus glow; 
 If I find it or not, I'll still seek that spot. 
 
 Where the Big Round Dollars Grow. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 51 
 
 YOU CAN'T LAY BY A SINGLE RED CENT 
 
 There are times when it seems the finger of fate 
 
 Is pointing directly at you; 
 When the Goddess of fortune has forsaken you 
 quite; 
 
 When the skies no longer seem blue; 
 When it takes all your nerve, not from duty to 
 swerve, 
 
 When you want to give up and not try. 
 For you can't lay by a single red cent, 
 
 When you haven't a red cent to lay by. 
 
 There are times when this world seems all out 
 of gear. 
 When real friends are decidedly few; 
 When the ones whom you've trusted have played 
 you false; 
 And they sneer as they're passing by you. 
 Though you know in your heart, you have acted 
 your part. 
 In life's drama without even a sigh; 
 Though you couldn't lay by a single red cent, 
 For you hadn't a red cent to lay by. 
 
 Yet some time, some day, you feel in your soul. 
 Dame Fortune will come to your gate; 
 
 When you'll welcome her in with wide open arms, 
 And will laugh at the frolics of fate. 
 
52 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 Then the friends, whom you knew, who had 
 proven untrue. 
 
 Will return and will not be content, 
 Till they borrow the very last dollar you have 
 
 And not leave you a single red cent. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 53 
 
 THE FAMOUS GOLDEN RULE 
 
 I find it isn't easy 
 
 In life's bitter school 
 To practice the teachings 
 
 Of the golden rule. 
 For the man you thought was honest 
 
 Will turn you down cold 
 If he gets a chance to do you 
 
 For a little piece of gold. 
 
 Your father, or your brother, 
 
 Will fight you for a flag. 
 It may be one of finest silk 
 
 Or just a common rag. 
 But when the battle's over. 
 
 When your temper's time to cool, 
 You'll find you both have broken 
 
 That famous golden rule. 
 
 Sometime perhaps you've held a hand 
 
 In our great political game. 
 If you have no doubt you did it 
 
 To your everlasting shame 
 For the wily politician 
 
 Is as tricky as a mule. 
 And doesn't know the meaning 
 
 Of that famous golden rule. 
 
54 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 You may have had a sweetheart 
 
 Who said that she was true. 
 But she runs away and marries a man 
 
 No handsomer than you. 
 And you find out, when its too late, 
 
 That she played you for a fool. 
 For she's an unbeliever in 
 
 That famous golden rule. 
 
 Of Damon and of Pythias 
 
 No doubt you've often heard. 
 Of Jonathan and of David 
 
 You have read in sacred word. 
 But the friendship that is truest 
 
 In all times catalog 
 Is the friendship 'tween the "nigger" 
 
 And his old "yaller" dog. 
 
 Now the "nigger" may have nothing 
 
 And the dog a little less. 
 But each one is made welcome 
 
 To what the other has I guess. 
 For they stick close by each other 
 
 If the weather's hot or cool. 
 They're the only real disciples 
 
 Of the famous golden rule. 
 
 My sentiment will be sanctioned 
 
 In palace, or in hovel; 
 'Twill be sanctioned by the rich man. 
 
 Or the poor man with his shovel. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 55 
 
 But the churchman, and the clergy, 
 
 Will try to ridicule; 
 But they don't always practice 
 
 Their blessed golden rule. 
 
 The golden rule may have been all right 
 
 In a very ancient day. 
 But now I find they're doing things 
 
 In a little different way. 
 So I've come to this conclusion; 
 
 That a man's a doggoned fool. 
 Who tries to work his way through life 
 
 By that ancient golden rule. 
 
56 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 KEEP SMILING 
 
 If things don't go to suit you, 
 
 It's no use to whine and pout, 
 For you'll find that while you worry 
 
 That your courage oozes out. 
 Buckle up your belt the tighter, 
 
 If with stones your path is set, 
 Put a smile upon your features, — 
 
 Say that you're not conquered yet. 
 
 Then all things will seem much brighter, 
 
 And the road not near so rough. 
 If you show you have the spirit, — 
 
 Show you're made of the right stuff. 
 For this old world loves a fighter. 
 
 One that doesn't fume and fret. 
 But who smiles and keeps a smiling. 
 
 As he says not conquered yet. 
 
 Perseverance wins the battle. 
 
 If you only have the pluck 
 To keep fighting, pushing, shoving, — 
 
 Do not stop and blame your luck; 
 When the outlook seems the darkest. 
 
 When hope's star begins to set. 
 Make your smile a little broader. 
 
 Say that you're not conquered yet. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 57 
 
 Though your load may get more irksome, 
 
 If you'll only stand the test, 
 You will yet be crowned the victor. 
 
 If you'll always do your best. 
 Do not then become discouraged, 
 
 Say that life is not worth while. 
 It will seem a whole lot better 
 
 If you'll always wear a smile. 
 
58 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE MAIN KAZABO 
 
 I don't like the way they're running things, 
 
 In the lodge where I belong; 
 It seems they have a certain set 
 
 That must always lead the song. 
 Of course, I sit and listen. 
 
 But it makes me mad clean through; 
 Yes, and I'd tell the Main Kazabo, too. 
 
 Just as quick as I tell you. 
 
 The relief committee recommends 
 
 That the benefits be allowed; 
 The motion's made and seconded 
 
 By some one of their crowd, — 
 They don't even give a man a chance 
 
 To say a word or two; 
 Yes, and I'd tell the Main Kazabo, too, 
 
 Just as quick as I tell you. 
 
 I don't attend their meetings now. 
 
 Because it "taint" no fun 
 To have them wise guys tell you. 
 
 How the business should be done. 
 But I'm going up there one these nights 
 
 And I'll tell them what to do; 
 Yes, and I'd tell the Main Kazabo, too. 
 
 Just as quick as I tell you. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 59 
 
 Of course, I keep my dues paid up, 
 
 Because if I should stop, 
 They wouldn't waste their time on me; 
 
 They'd be glad if I would drop. 
 You bet, that I don't pay them though, 
 
 'Til the last day that they're due; 
 Yes, and I'd tell the Main Kazabo, too. 
 
 Just as quick as I tell you. 
 
 Then whenever I get sick. 
 
 They've got to wait on me, 
 I have their written promise 
 
 Of four dollars per, you see. 
 And if they do not do it quick, 
 
 I'll tell you what I'll do,— 
 I'll file charges 'gainst the whole darn bunch 
 
 And the Main Kazabo, too. 
 
 You may say that I'm a kicker. 
 
 But I tell you that I'm not; 
 If they'd let me have my way awhile, 
 
 I'd show them just what's what. 
 Of course I'd be there every night 
 
 And push the business through. 
 Then I would be the whole darn "works" 
 
 And the Main Kazabo, too. 
 
60 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 EVEN AS YOU AND I 
 
 There was a man, who joined a lodge, 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 Then all of his duties he tries to dodge, 
 
 (Even as you and L) 
 He's no sooner in than he tries to hedge, 
 And soon he's forgotten the whole of his pledge, 
 And you can't drive it into his "knot" with a sledge. 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 
 He seldom comes to lodge any more, 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 And when he does he's a regular bore, 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 Of him the relief committee seems afraid. 
 As he asks in a voice that's undismayed. 
 Why his benefits haven't been paid. 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 
 If he'd do his work as it should be done, 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 Then when his earthly race is run 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 There'd be no chance in the after years. 
 To shed a lot of crocodile tears, 
 Over his, as well as over our biers. 
 
 (Even as you and I.) 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 61 
 
 WHEN I WORKED ON THE TEAM 
 
 I don't attend lodge meetings now, 
 
 As in the days gone by; 
 For I have a touch of the "rheumatiz," 
 
 Therefore I'm not so spry; 
 But I haven't lost my interest, 
 
 For I often sit and dream 
 Of the good old times we used to have, 
 
 When I worked on the team. 
 
 We were always there for practice, 
 
 At the time the Captain set; 
 And every fellow knew his part 
 
 Like he knew his alphabet. 
 Now our captain was a fellow. 
 
 Whose word was law supreme. 
 And he wouldn't stand no foohshness, 
 
 When working on the team. 
 
 The work now don't seem quite the same, 
 
 That it did long, long ago, 
 The speaking parts are changed a bit. 
 
 But I really do not know 
 As that should make much difference. 
 
 But its lost the "pep" and "steam". 
 That characterized the work we done. 
 
 When I was on the team. 
 
62 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 Now and then we'd find a "bucker", 
 
 But we soon showed him the way 
 To walk the straight and narrow path 
 
 Without making a display. 
 And when the work was over 
 
 We were held in high esteem 
 For the candidates were satisfied 
 
 When I worked on the team. 
 
 You may say that Fm a "has been" 
 
 But I'll tell you it's no bluff 
 That that old team we used to have 
 
 Was certainly just the stuff. 
 And when my life is ended, 
 
 When I've sailed across life's stream 
 You will find me with St. Peter 
 
 And working on his team. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 63 
 
 THE NIGHT THAT I MADE HAY 
 
 Well, yes, I've joined some lodges, 
 
 And I've taken a few degrees; 
 I've joined the Elks and Eagles, 
 
 Redmen and the K. of P's; 
 I've also ridden the Oddfellows goat. 
 
 And that of the M. W. A., 
 But the darndest time that ever I had 
 
 Was the night I took the Hay. 
 
 They brought me in the lodge room, 
 
 And they made a lot of noise. 
 But I thought to myself, "It's easy, 
 
 I'll soon be one of the boys." 
 Then they sang a song of Mary, 
 
 Who once owned a little lamb; 
 But I think from the way it treated me. 
 
 That it must have been a ram. 
 
 Then they put me on a whirly-magig, 
 
 I was in a terrible pickle. 
 For they poked me in the ribs and said, 
 
 "Keep your feet up out of the sickle." 
 Then they whirled me round and round again. 
 
 For an hour and a half I think. 
 Then they let me down and someone yelled, 
 
 "Quick, give him a drink, a drink." 
 
64 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 You may talk about the nectar 
 
 That beautiful angels sip, 
 And the rich ambrosial fluid 
 
 Which from heavenly fountains drip; 
 No doubt they are delicious, 
 
 But to you I solemnly swear, 
 I don't believe they can equal the drink 
 
 The Haymakers gave me there. 
 
 Now I've told you something of the things 
 
 You will meet along the way. 
 If you want to know the remainder 
 
 Get wise and join the Hay. 
 Then when you go to that Loft above 
 
 Your golden harp to receive 
 St. Peter will give you the best he's got 
 
 If you'll tell him that "you believe." 
 
 There are some deeds that never die. 
 
 Some acts are ne'er forgot; 
 Some memories the flight of time, 
 
 Tries futilely to blot; 
 But in the sweep of years to come, 
 
 When I am old and gray, 
 I'll tell my grandchild on my knee 
 
 Of the night that I made Hay. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 65 
 
 A CASE OF BLUES 
 
 All the world seems topsy turvy, 
 
 And everything goes wrong; 
 Even when the birds are singing, 
 
 There is sadness in their song; 
 You can't eat with satisfaction, 
 
 Any dish that you may choose; 
 For your liver jumps its orbit. 
 
 When you get a case of blues. 
 
 You are lonely and dejected, 
 
 Even when you're in a crowd; 
 And you don't believe that silver 
 
 E'er was made to line a cloud; 
 And you never had a friendship. 
 
 That you'd care if you should lose — 
 Even sugar will taste bitter. 
 
 When you have a case of blues. 
 
 Now listen to the lesson, 
 
 That's imparted by my tale; 
 Though the world be dark and dreary, 
 
 And your life is flat and stale; 
 Do not get so pessimistic, 
 
 That you cannot change your views. 
 For I wrote these little verses. 
 
 Just because I had the blues. 
 
66 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE DARK AND RAINY DAY 
 
 When a fellow first discovers 
 
 That his hair is turning gray. 
 And his limbs are not so supple, 
 
 When he kneels as if to pray; 
 In his heart no doubt he wishes. 
 
 That he had made some "hay," 
 And stored it where 'twas handy. 
 
 For a dark and rainy day. 
 
 As he gazes in the mirror. 
 
 Sees the rime upon his brow; 
 And a lot of little wrinkles. 
 
 That he recognizes now; 
 He may feel somewhat discouraged. 
 
 If he hasn't laid away, 
 A lot of filthy lucre, 
 
 For a dark and rainy day. 
 
 Though his face may be all wrinkled, 
 
 And his hair as white as snow; 
 He has something that is better. 
 
 Than a hogshead full of "dough," 
 If he's served his fellow creatures. 
 
 With a bunch of fine boquets 
 Of sunshine and of gladness. 
 
 On the dark and rainy days. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 67 
 
 OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS 
 
 No doubt you've heard the story 
 
 Many, many times before 
 That opportunity knocks, once at least, 
 
 Upon the humblest door; 
 But when you hear the knocking 
 
 And your door you open wide 
 It's usually a collector 
 
 Who wants to walk inside. 
 
 You know, that death and taxes 
 
 Have both got to be paid; 
 And collector is a synonym. 
 
 For trouble's serving maid. 
 Who haunts you and who hounds you 
 
 Until you get so sore. 
 That you fail to hear opportunity's 
 
 Gentle rapping on your door. 
 
 But if you'll walk life's pathway. 
 
 With a heart that's full of hope, 
 And always keep your courage up 
 
 Without taking any "dope"; 
 And you can do it, too, I know 
 
 If you're dead game to the core, 
 You can drive away all troubles 
 
 That come knocking at your door. 
 
68 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 TO THE POLITICIAN 
 
 Fve traveled through this vale of tears. 
 For well nigh onto fifty years, 
 
 And yet can't understand, 
 Why man should pass me day by day. 
 And never deign to look my way. 
 
 Nor even wave his hand; 
 Until it comes the time to vote, 
 And then I make a mental note. 
 
 That I can't walk a mile, 
 But what some politician suave, 
 Will give his hand an upward wave, 
 
 And greet me with a smile. 
 He thinks that he is pretty slick. 
 In pulling off this hoary trick, 
 
 But he has another think; 
 For when I come to cast my vote, 
 I then recall my mental note, 
 
 And surely soak that gink. 
 For I'm an independent cuss. 
 Of brains I have no over-plus. 
 
 But heed my little rhyme, 
 If you want to make a hit with me, 
 Just wave your hand so I can see. 
 
 And keep smiling all the time. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 69 
 
 I'M FROM THE U. S. A. 
 
 I don't believe, in the days of old, 
 When men were dressed in lace and gold, 
 
 And knighthood was in flower; 
 That times were any better then, 
 For the ordinary denizen, 
 
 Than at the present hour. 
 And so I think it just a bluff. 
 That men were made of better stuff, 
 
 In those brave days of old; 
 Therefore I'll bet a picayune, 
 That when the time was opportune. 
 
 They'd filch their neighbor's gold. 
 Of course, they made a fine parade. 
 When dressed out in their tinselled braid, 
 
 But it was just veneer, 
 And covered up as common clay. 
 As the would be blue-bloods of to-day, 
 
 And I expect as queer. 
 So when I read of olden times. 
 And what men did in foreign climes, 
 
 I'll have to say, nay, nay. 
 And offer up a loud amen, 
 That I'm a common citizen. 
 
 Of the good old U. S. A. 
 
70 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 CHEER UP 
 
 If you don't like the job youVe got, 
 The chances are that you are not 
 
 With your lot contented. 
 But a suggestion that you quit, 
 Would likely make you throw a fit, 
 
 And act like one demented. 
 You now get three square meals a day. 
 You couldn't eat more any way, 
 
 So what's the use of whining; 
 There's lots of folks worse off than you, 
 That do not fret and fume and stew. 
 
 Nor waste their time repining. 
 They see afar the goal they seek, 
 And will not let the bolshevik 
 
 Change their high endeavor; 
 But they keep pushing on ahead. 
 And swear they will not be misled, 
 
 By schemes that may seem clever. 
 Then go your way, sing joyous tunes. 
 Though folks may say you're full of prunes, 
 
 That are all specked and rotten; 
 For when the harps are handed out, 
 Then you'll get yours beyond a doubt. 
 While they will be forgotten. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 71 
 
 THE WISE GUY 
 
 In every town, throughout our land, 
 
 There is a gink who knows it all. 
 He's always there to lead the band, 
 
 He never fails to hear the call. 
 No matter what the question is. 
 
 He has the answer up his sleeve. 
 And shoots it at you with a whizz. 
 
 He never asks "if by your leave." 
 This fountain of free information. 
 
 Would put King Solomon to shame; 
 Without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 He'll point the way to wealth and fame. 
 He knows about the woes of labor; 
 
 The reasons for H. C. of L.; 
 He preaches sermons to his neighbor. 
 
 While coming storms he can foretell. 
 And if, perchance, you called the doctor, 
 
 When you tussled with the "flu," 
 He will tell you how he'd knocked her. 
 
 And wouldn't have cost you half a sou. 
 Now this guy thinks, when he is gone, 
 
 His name will lead the honor roll; 
 But when the Judgment Day shall dawn. 
 
 He'll find he failed to reach the goal. 
 He's been so busy here below. 
 
 Answering questions that arise. 
 That he's forgot the way to go. 
 
 To those mansions in the skies. 
 
72 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE COLLEGE YOUTH 
 
 The college youth has started out 
 Beyond the shadow of a doubt 
 
 He'll set the world on fire, 
 For deep within his lion heart 
 He's vowed he'll take an active part 
 
 To noble things aspire. 
 Upon his lips there is a song 
 As he goes merrily along 
 
 Toward the height of fame; 
 To him the skies are always clear 
 To him there comes no haunting fear 
 
 That he won't win the game. 
 But by and by there comes a day, 
 His spirits then are not so gay. 
 
 He finds he has a job. 
 If he'll keep steadily in his view 
 The things that he set out to do 
 
 And not sit down and sob; 
 But just keep pushing, pushing on 
 (For every night must have a dawn) 
 
 And not presume to fret; 
 He'll find service and pluck are in accord 
 And will at last bring sure reward 
 
 Whatever may beset. 
 So college youth I hope that you 
 Will make your every dream come true 
 
 And reach your highest aim. 
 Then as the years go rolling by 
 We'll see your name emblazoned high 
 
 Upon the scroll of fame. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 73 
 
 PECULIAR BROWN 
 
 In Peculiarville, where I came from, 
 
 There lived Peculiar Brown; 
 He was the most peculiar man. 
 
 In that peculiar town. 
 He had the most peculiar hair, 
 
 It was peculiar red, 
 He'd colored it with brick dust, 
 
 So Peculiar's neighbors said; 
 He had the most peculiar ears. 
 
 And the most peculiar eyes. 
 They were peculiar color, 
 
 And of peculiar size. 
 He had the most peculiar chin. 
 
 And the most peculiar nose; 
 He had the most peculiar hands. 
 
 And the most peculiar toes; 
 He had the most peculiar mouth. 
 
 And the most peculiar talk; 
 He had the most peculiar feet, 
 
 And the most peculiar walk; 
 He did the most peculiar things. 
 
 In the most peculiar way. 
 And he died a most peculiar death. 
 
 Or he'd be alive to-day. 
 
74 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 HERE AND HEREAFTER 
 
 Though 'tis a sad story I have to relate, 
 It is one that is told, either soon or late, 
 For age is beginning to furrow my brow 
 ('Tis a decree of fate to which all must bow). 
 And my form feels the chill of winter's cold blast, 
 It makes me feel sad when I think of the past. 
 Though I know it is true what someone has said, 
 "The heart casts a glamour o'er days that are 
 
 dead." 
 Old Time is rolling along with his years 
 And has nothing for me but toil and tears. 
 With affairs of this life I have been so engrossed, 
 I've given no thought to the Holy Ghost, 
 And what is to come in the Great Hereafter — 
 Whether sorrow and tears or music and laughter. 
 But why should I murmur or why should I moan. 
 For I know I must reap just like I have sown. 
 And whatever for me the Lord has in store 
 I'll find when I reach that golden shore. 
 When the thread of my life shall snap in time's 
 
 loom. 
 Before I am laid in the cold silent tomb, 
 I want you to come, gaze a while on my bier. 
 But wipe from your eyes every trace of a tear. 
 And say, "Old Man, all your troubles are past. 
 You fought a good fight, but lost at last, 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 75 
 
 And now you have gone before your Lord 
 On bended knees to receive your reward — 
 Your faults we'll forget and your virtues extol 
 And ask God to have mercy upon your soul 
 For you did your duty the best you knew how 
 Though it brought no laurel wreaths to your brow. 
 And while your loss, brother, we deeply deplore, 
 And the haunts which once knew you will know 
 
 you no more. 
 So long as we stay on this earthly scene 
 We'll cherish your mem'ry and keep your grave 
 
 green." 
 So I'm only waiting for the boatman pale 
 (For I know I'm nearing the end of the trail) 
 To carry me over the dark river Styx 
 And then I'll be in a de'il of a fix, 
 For I'll find that an angel of God on high 
 Had kept me ever under his watchful eye. 
 And had written down in that book of gold 
 All sins I'd committed, all fibs I had told. 
 When I ask to see the credit side of the book. 
 He'll say nothing there, no use to look; 
 You will have to go to the region below 
 To the place where they never have any snow. 
 Then down I'll go to the realms of the devil 
 To spend my time in a fiery revel. 
 
WAR TIME RHYMES 
 
 CHRONOLOGICALLY 
 ARRANGED 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 79 
 
 PREPAREDNESS 
 
 "In time of peace prepare for war," 
 
 Is an adage old and hoary; 
 But lots of folks, throughout our land. 
 
 Say it's but a fairy story. 
 That's been retold and told again. 
 
 By many would-be sages. 
 But if they'll turn the leaves of time 
 
 And scan our history's pages. 
 They'll find had that course been pursued 
 
 'T would have saved a lot of friction. 
 So read that adage o'er again; 
 
 Then list to my prediction. 
 That if you want to keep the peace 
 
 To preserve our own tranquillity. 
 And hold the nations of the earth 
 
 To a strict accountability 
 Then we must get together 
 
 And make proper preparation. 
 So when our rights are trampled on 
 
 We can ask for reparation. 
 And if they do not do it quick 
 
 We'll send a note "by gravy" 
 And say to them "You come across"; 
 
 Or we will send our navy. 
 For if we've properly prepared. 
 
 As I have said before 
 A stitch in time will save us nine. 
 
 Sure as two and two are four. 
 
 Nov. 26, 1916. 
 
80 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 SOAK THE KAISER 
 
 Though what I have to say to you 
 May seem both flat and stale; 
 
 But if you're a true American, 
 It will prove no idle tale. 
 
 For well do you remember now, 
 That in the days gone by, 
 
 The world was filled with peace and joy, 
 No war clouds dimmed the sky, 
 
 Until one day, old Kaiser Bill, 
 
 The autocratic cuss, 
 With Francis J. of Austria, 
 
 Stirred up an all fired muss. 
 But what has happened, since that time, 
 
 You all remember well; 
 For the Kaiser and his dirt}" gang 
 
 Removed the lid from hell. 
 
 To rule the people of the earth 
 
 Has been the Kaiser's dream. 
 But Uncle Sammy is the gent. 
 
 Who'll spoil his little scheme. 
 When Sammy says he'll do a thing. 
 
 He will not rest content. 
 Until he does the work up right 
 
 Though it takes his last red cent 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 81 
 
 i 
 
 There are many million Sammies, 
 
 And every mother's son, 
 Will prove that he's a scrapper. 
 
 When he meets the bloody Hun. 
 And they all will think they're slighted, 
 
 If they do not get a chance. 
 To take a trip to old Berlin 
 
 And kick the Kaiser's pants. 
 
 Then when the war is ended. 
 
 When there's peace on earth once more. 
 The Kaiser will be wiser, 
 
 Than he ever was before. 
 For we'll have a celebration. 
 
 And we'll do the thing up right. 
 We'll send the Kaiser straight to hell 
 
 And nail the lid down tight. 
 
 March 13, 1918. 
 
82 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE MAN UNDER THIRTY-ONE 
 
 Who is it that leaves the comforts of home? 
 
 Who is leaves friends that are dear? 
 Who is that gives the best that he has? 
 
 Gives it all with a smile and a cheer. 
 Who is that stands in the battle front? 
 
 Who is that carries the gun? 
 Who is that goes to the cannon's mouth? 
 
 It's the man under thirty-one. 
 
 He goes over sea, for you and for me, 
 
 To fight for the Red, White and Blue. 
 So somewhere in France, he's taking a chance, 
 
 Thus proving that his heart is true. 
 To me it's not clear, why anyone here, 
 
 Should hold to a different view. 
 For why should the man under thirty-one 
 
 Do more for his country than you? 
 
 Who is it that answers when duty calls? 
 
 Who is it that enters the strife? 
 Who is it that's holding our banner aloft? 
 
 Though he knows it may cost his life. 
 Who is that willingly faces the foe 
 
 When he knows there is work to be done? 
 And who will bring victory home to the right? 
 
 It's the man under thirty-one. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 83 
 
 He goes over sea, for you and for me, 
 
 To fight for the Red, White and Blue. 
 So somewhere in France, he's taking a chance. 
 
 Thus proving that his heart is true. 
 While you stay at home, and do all that you can, 
 
 To rake in a dollar or two. 
 But why should the man under thirty-one 
 
 Do more for his country than you? 
 
 March 17, 1918. 
 
84 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THAT FAR OFF LAND OF FRANCE 
 
 We had read about the trouble, 
 
 They were having over there; 
 But it seemed so far away from us 
 
 We really didn't care, 
 If the Allies, or the Germans, 
 
 Would gain in their advance, 
 As they fought against each other. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 Thus we read the same old story, 
 
 Until one April day; 
 We found that us Americans 
 
 Were mixed up in the fray. 
 Some thought 'twas simply awful, 
 
 (You could see it in their glance) 
 To have our boys a fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 Then this German propaganda 
 
 Was regarded as a jest. 
 But I think now it's time for us. 
 
 To do our very best; 
 For we cannot win, by mopin' round. 
 
 Like we were in a trance. 
 And have our boys a fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 85 
 
 We must lay aside our politics, 
 
 No matter how we vote, 
 And all pull together; 
 
 Then, we'll get the Kaiser's goat. 
 And the only way to do it. 
 
 Is to go down in your pants. 
 And back the boys that's fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 Now I haven't got much money; 
 
 But I'm goin' to give my bit. 
 And I'm goin' to keep on givin'. 
 
 Till we make those devils quit. 
 And the kid — he's joined the army. 
 
 And he's goin' to take a chance. 
 With the other boys that's fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 Then a sort of funny feelin' 
 
 Come a creepin' round my heart; 
 And it wouldn't take so very much 
 
 To make the teardrops start. 
 When I see the kid a sailin' 
 
 Cross the ocean's broad expanse, 
 To where our boys are fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 But I get a lot of comfort. 
 
 When the fact's brought home to me. 
 That the reason they are fightin'. 
 
 Is for human liberty. 
 
86 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 So ril not get pessimistic, 
 
 Under any circumstance, 
 But I'll cheer the boys that's fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 Then when the boys come marchin' home, 
 
 With glad and gallant tread, 
 (Though many may be left behind 
 
 A white cross at their head), 
 I can look them in the eye and say, 
 
 I never missed a chance. 
 To back you boys, while fightin'. 
 
 In that far off land of France. 
 
 April 3, 1918. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 87 
 
 HALT THE HUN 
 
 Our Uncle Sam has gone to war, 
 
 To make the whole world free, 
 To have the job done up just right. 
 
 Depends on you and me; 
 For he must have assistance. 
 
 From each and every one; 
 For weVe got to halt the Hun, friends, 
 
 WeVe got to halt the Hun. 
 
 There is no place for neutrals 
 
 In the good old U. S. A.; 
 And those who are not for us. 
 
 Are against us in this fray. 
 So if you want to prove you're right, 
 
 Just go and grab a gun; 
 And help to halt the Hun, friends. 
 
 And help to halt the Hun. 
 
 While those, who always claim they love 
 
 Our star-be-spangled banner, 
 Should all be willing to show that love. 
 
 In no uncertain manner. 
 So if you cannot go and fight. 
 
 Just shell out with your "nion,'* 
 And help to halt the Hun, friends. 
 
 And help to halt the Hun. 
 
88 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 While this may be the biggest scrap 
 
 We've ever had before; 
 But we are going to win it, 
 
 Sure as two and two are four. 
 While it may prove unpleasant, 
 
 It's a task that we will not shun; 
 For we're going to lick the Hun, friends. 
 
 We're going to lick the Hun. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 89 
 
 THEY'RE COMING, BILL 
 
 We get quite patriotic 
 
 When we speak about our flag. 
 But I understand the Kaiser says, 
 
 That we're inclined to brag; 
 That we're just a bunch of bluffers, 
 
 Who are all afraid to fight. 
 But he'll find we have some devil dogs, 
 
 And they've got a nasty bite. 
 
 Now the Kaiser tried to bluff us; 
 
 But we have called his hand; 
 And we'll show him we're not quitters. 
 
 But that we have got the sand; 
 And when it comes to fighting, 
 
 We would rather fight than eat; 
 Though there's nothing we like better 
 
 Than a mess of German meat. 
 
 So we've sent a lot of buddies 
 
 Over there across the sea; 
 And they swear that they'll bring 
 
 Victory back — ^back to you and me. 
 And we're going to keep on sending them. 
 
 In a long unbroken line; 
 Till they knock all before them 
 
 And march across the Rhine. 
 
90 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 Now the buddies all are anxious 
 
 For a good whack at the Hun; 
 And believe me when they get it, 
 
 They will make those devils run. 
 But Bill may say they're boasting, 
 
 But just as sure as sin. 
 They will bear our flag triumphant 
 
 Through the streets of old Berlin. 
 
 Now, the Germans think their Kaiser 
 
 Is a sort of demi-god; 
 They've another think a-coming 
 
 For the Kaiser's shot his wad. 
 Soon there'll be a day of reckoning. 
 
 When we'll have a lot of fun; 
 For we're going to oust the Kaiser 
 
 From his place in the sun. 
 
 And just as long as Bill shall live. 
 
 There's a day that he will rue; 
 It's the day that he insulted 
 
 The old Red, White and Blue. 
 Altho' we, as a nation. 
 
 Have a tendency to brag. 
 We're going to wallop any son of a gun 
 
 Who insults our dear old flag. 
 
 June 11, 1918, 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 91 
 
 WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME AGAIN 
 
 Our boys have crossed the ocean's foam. 
 
 To fight against the Hun. 
 While we are waiting for the day, 
 
 When their good fight is won. 
 And many hearts, though sad to-day. 
 
 Will all be cheerful then. 
 For tears of pain will turn to joy. 
 
 When the boys come home again. 
 
 Chorus : 
 
 When the boys come marching home again. 
 
 From far across the sea; 
 We're going to have a glorious time. 
 
 Yes, a regular jubilee. 
 So send this cheery message. 
 
 Over hill and dale and glen; 
 We'll turn the old town upside down, 
 
 When the boys come home again. 
 
 There'll be no north, there'll be no south. 
 
 There'll be no east, no west; 
 But one united people, 
 
 This old world's very best. 
 That happy time is coming soon. 
 
 It needs no seer to ken, 
 'Twill be ushered in, with glad acclaim. 
 
 When the boys come home again. 
 
 Chorus. 
 July 4, 1918. 
 
92 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE KAISER 
 
 Who was it when the earth's skies were fair, 
 That sounded aloud the war trumps blare. 
 Causing pain and heartache everywhere? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Who was by intrigue and plot, 
 Has put on history's page a blot, 
 That can't be erased by "me and Gott"? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Who was it into Belgium threw, 
 A fiendish, murderous, cutthroat crew — 
 The worst that mankind ever knew? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Who was it that refused to shield, 
 The women and children who appealed. 
 To his henchmen there in Flanders field? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Who was murdered Edith Cavell? 
 Who made of northern France a hell. 
 By dastard deeds tongue cannot tell? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Who was it on Picardy plain. 
 Where thousand human souls were slain, 
 Gave Demon Death unbridled reign? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 9S 
 
 Who was the Lusitania sunk? 
 Who with the lust of power is drunk? 
 Who was it raised Uncle Sammy's spunk? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Who was it said that might makes right? 
 Who was it said we were afraid to fight? 
 Who's naught but a regular parasite? 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 So when this cruel war is done, 
 The devil himself will even shun, 
 That ornery, rotten, rat-faced Hun, 
 The Kaiser. 
 
 Aug. 20, 1918. 
 
94 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 SAFE OVER SEA 
 
 IVe received communications 
 
 From presidents and kings; 
 And have felt the exultation 
 
 Such a message often brings; 
 I, today, received a letter, 
 
 From a friend of by-gone days; 
 And a flood of recollections 
 
 To my memory it conveys; 
 I have felt the thrill of pleasure, 
 
 As I read a billet doux. 
 That was filled with loving phrases, 
 
 From a sweetheart kind and true; 
 But none of these have ever. 
 
 Brought such a joy to me. 
 As did that little message, 
 
 "Have arrived safe over sea." 
 "The ship on which I sailed 
 
 Has arrived safe over sea" 
 Now has a deeper meaning 
 
 Than it ever had for me; 
 For my heart was on the transport. 
 
 When my laddie sailed away. 
 To join our fighting forces. 
 
 Cross the ocean cold and gray. 
 Now that he's landed safely, 
 
 Over on the other side; 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 95 
 
 I know faith in his valor, 
 
 Will be well justified; 
 And when the strife is ended, 
 
 God grant that he may be 
 Brought safely back, from over there, 
 
 To home, and friends, and me. 
 
 Sept. 2, 1918. 
 
96 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 BETTER BUY A BOND 
 
 It now has been almost two years, 
 
 Since we first went to war; 
 And still some folks are asking 
 
 What we are fighting for. 
 That question now don't interest me, 
 
 I realize we're in it; 
 And the only question I ask is 
 
 What can we do to win it. 
 
 And so the call has come again. 
 
 For another Liberty Loan; 
 We are going to make it a winner. 
 
 For the Kaiser must be shown; 
 And we can do that easily. 
 
 As all the signs denote. 
 If we'll get behind our President, 
 
 And do not rock the boat. 
 
 It will take a lot of money. 
 
 To buy the shot and shell; 
 To send those Germans to the place 
 
 Where no angels ever dwell. 
 So when the call comes to you. 
 
 You should at once respond. 
 For you can't be patriotic 
 
 Unless you buy a bond. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 97 
 
 Now do not try to fool yourself, 
 
 And think you're on the square; 
 Unless youVe done your very best 
 
 For our boys over there. 
 For when the boys come back again, 
 
 From across the big salt pond. 
 They'll know you're a dirty slacker, 
 
 If you haven't bought a bond. 
 
 Remember that you'll have to live. 
 
 Through all the coming years. 
 In a country that was saved for you 
 
 By a soldier's blood and tears. 
 And when your life is ended. 
 
 When you reach the Great Beyond, 
 St. Peter will say, "You shall not pass 
 
 You failed to buy a bond." 
 
 So in this fight for freedom, 
 
 Our aims we must defend; 
 Do everything within our power, 
 
 To reach a successful end. 
 Then if you've done your duty. 
 
 When your heavenly robes are donned, 
 St. Peter will bid you welcome. 
 
 For he'll know you bought a bond. 
 
 Sept 10, 1918. 
 
98 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 THE OLD Y. M. C. A. 
 
 When a lad first joins the service, 
 
 And he goes away to camp; 
 He doubtless often wearies, 
 
 Of the tramp, tramp, tramp. 
 But when retreat is sounded, 
 
 At the closing of the day. 
 He soon forgets his troubles 
 
 At the old Y. M. C. A. 
 
 Then when he's through his training, 
 
 And he goes across the sea; 
 He proves a staunch crusader. 
 
 In the cause of liberty. 
 And when he's done his duty. 
 
 In the battle's stern array. 
 He turns for recreation 
 
 To the old Y. M. C. A. 
 
 No matter where the soldier goes, 
 
 The sailor, or marine. 
 The red triangle of the "Y," 
 
 Is somewhere to be seen; 
 And like a beacon in the night. 
 
 It shows a guiding ray. 
 To where they'll all find welcome 
 
 At the old Y. M. C. A. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 99 
 
 Then when the war is ended, 
 
 No lad will shed a tear, 
 Unless it's one of happiness 
 
 Shed on the Kaiser's bier. 
 But as the years roll onward, 
 
 Wherever he may stray, 
 His thoughts will often wander back 
 
 To the old Y. M. C. A. 
 
 So friends we're only asking 
 
 That you should do your part. 
 To do it uncomplainingly. 
 
 And with a grateful heart. 
 For you know the boys are fighting. 
 
 Over there for you to-day. 
 So it's up to you, to back them up, 
 
 Through the old Y. M. C. A. 
 
 Nov. 2, 1918. 
 
100 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME 
 
 Hurrah! Hurrah! The war is won; 
 The Yankee boys have licked the Hun; 
 And we will have a lot of fun. 
 When the boys come home. 
 
 They made the Kaiser abdicate; 
 They wouldn't let him arbitrate; 
 That's why we're going to celebrate, 
 When the boys come home. 
 
 They ought to hang them every one, 
 Even the Kaiser's chinless son; 
 Then there'd be no Germans "in the sun," 
 When the boys come home. 
 
 Nov. 11, 1918. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 101 
 
 THE ARMISTICE IS SIGNED 
 
 Go fling Old Glory to the breeze 
 
 And offer up a prayer; 
 For joyous news, yes, glorious news. 
 
 Has come from over there; 
 The news for which we've waited long. 
 
 For which our souls have pined. 
 The Kaiser has abdicated. 
 
 And the armistice is signed. 
 
 Go ring the bells of liberty, 
 
 And let their joyous peal. 
 Be mingled with the music. 
 
 That through your systems steal. 
 Go ring them long and merrily. 
 
 For they will help to bind. 
 The tie that now unites us. 
 
 Since the armistice is signed. 
 
 Go send the word from town to town, 
 
 A task has been well done; 
 Our boys have gained the victory. 
 
 In their battle with the Hun. 
 Go sing a song of triumph, ' 
 
 Let joy be unconfined; 
 The Germans sang their swan song, 
 
 When the armistice was signed. 
 
102 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 Go spread the tidings far and wide, 
 
 No more the cannons roar; 
 Our boys will soon be coming back, 
 
 To fair Columbia shore. 
 They're coming home, to greet again. 
 
 The dear ones left behind. 
 And loving hands will clasp once more. 
 
 Since the armistice is signed. 
 
 All honor to the A. E. F., 
 
 Who went across the sea, 
 And brought the fruits of victory back. 
 
 Back to you and me. 
 And may their deeds forever. 
 
 In memory be enshrined. 
 For they won the fight for freedom 
 
 When the armistice was signed. 
 
 Nov. 12, 1918. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 103 
 
 WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH BILL? 
 
 As I go strolling down the street, 
 Acquaintances I chance to meet, 
 To me, this question, ofttimes repeat: 
 Say, what shall we do with Bill? 
 
 Shall he be sent to the regions below. 
 To the place where they never have any snow, 
 Where little red devils run to and fro? 
 No, that is too good for Bill. 
 
 Shall he be put in an open boat. 
 Forever with winds and tides to float. 
 While birds of prey above him gloat? 
 No, that is too good for Bill. 
 
 Shall he be placed on an island drear. 
 Where the sun shines hot throughout the year, 
 With nothing to drink except dry beer? 
 No, that is too good for Bill. 
 
 Shall he be thrown in a deep abyss. 
 Where deadly serpents writhe and hiss? 
 Are you in favor of act like this? 
 No, that is too good for Bill. 
 
 Shall he be cast in a lake of fire. 
 Where red hot flames mount higher and higher? 
 Shall this be the Kaiser's funeral pyre? 
 No, that is too good for Bill. 
 
104 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 Shall he be kept in some bastile, 
 Where never a ray of light can steal, 
 Where rodents and vermin bite and squeal? 
 No, that is too good for Bill. 
 
 Shall he be tied in a public place. 
 Without a chance to hide his face. 
 To be spit on by the populace? 
 No, that is to good for Bill. 
 
 There is no punishment under the sun. 
 To fit the crimes that have been done. 
 In the name of the brutal, beastly Hun. 
 But we'll do a plenty to Bill. 
 
 Nov. 19, 1918. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 105 
 
 THE LIMITED SERVICE MAN 
 
 When Uncle Sam got in the war, 
 
 . In nineteen seventeen; 
 
 I knew I ought to help him out, 
 
 My duty was clearly seen. 
 But when I tried to volunteer. 
 
 They said I was too light; 
 They said they only wanted men — 
 
 Men who could work and fight. 
 
 So they turned me down in the infantry. 
 
 And in the artillery, too; 
 So I went before the conscription board. 
 
 To see what they would do. 
 They put me in the limited class, 
 
 I think 'twas a dirty trick; 
 Then sent me out to the Far Northwest, 
 
 To use a shovel and pick. 
 
 They sent me out to the spruce woods front. 
 Where they learned me how to drill; 
 
 By hiking me up the mountain side, 
 Till I certainly had my fill. 
 
 We had squads right, we had squads left, 
 Sometimes on the double quick; 
 
 And then we had, right shoulder arms, 
 With my shovel or my pick. 
 
 And thus the days went slowly by. 
 
 Till I was good and tired; 
 But the thought that I was doing my bit. 
 
 Kept my spirits still inspired. 
 
106 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 At night I'd dream of the battle front, 
 Where the shot and shell were thick, 
 
 And in my dreams, I'd go over the top. 
 With my shovel or my pick. 
 
 And in those terrible battle dreams, 
 
 I'd alwaj^s come out best. 
 Though the other lads sometimes complained, 
 
 That I disturbed their rest. 
 But when we heard the reveille. 
 
 At fifteen minutes of six; 
 We'd all roll out and rub our eyes. 
 
 And look for our shovels and picks. 
 
 But now the armistice is signed, 
 
 I'll soon be coming home; 
 And I will be about as glad, 
 
 As the lads who crossed the foam. 
 But if I had gone across the sea, 
 
 I'd have made those Germans sick. 
 For I've certainly worked my muscles up, 
 
 By using my shovel and pick. 
 
 Now, I suppose, when I get home. 
 
 Some guy will start to kid. 
 And laugh about the spruce woods gang. 
 
 And the service that they did. 
 But if he does, as sure as fate, 
 
 I'll smash him with a brick; 
 Then volunteer to dig his grave. 
 
 And furnish the shovel and pick. 
 
 Jan. 6, 1919. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 107 
 
 P. D. Q. 
 
 When the boys went across the ocean, 
 
 To wallop the beastly Hun; 
 They thought they'd all come home again, 
 
 When the dirty job was done. 
 So they waded into the Kaiser, 
 
 And his baby-killing crew, 
 And you know they done the job up right. 
 
 And they did it P. D. Q. 
 
 They marched against Von Hindenburg, 
 
 And soon broke through his line; 
 And Vondy didn't slacken his pace, 
 
 Till he was across the Rhine. 
 They got after Crown Prince Willie, 
 
 And soon made him skiddoo; 
 He took a trip to Holland, 
 
 And he took it P. D. Q. 
 
 Our boys now are keeping watch. 
 
 Along the river Rhine. 
 But down in their hearts they're longing. 
 
 For the friends of Auld Lang Syne. 
 They're tired of watchful waiting, 
 
 And they're tired of red tape, too. 
 They want to come back home again. 
 
 And come back P. D. Q. 
 
108 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 There may be kings and counts and queens, 
 
 With long-drawn pedigree; 
 There may be points of interest, 
 
 That some would like to see. 
 The scenery may be just grand. 
 
 And wonderful to view; 
 But they'd rather see the U. S. A., 
 
 And see it P. D. Q. 
 
 So when the armistice was signed; 
 
 When the battle flags were furled; 
 When Democracy had been made safe. 
 
 Throughout the wide, wide world; 
 When the task had been accomplished. 
 
 That they'd been asked to do. 
 Don't you think that they should come back 
 home, 
 
 And come back P. D. Q.? 
 
 If you think the boys should all come home. 
 
 You should not hesitate; 
 But everyone be willing, 
 
 To help to pay the freight. 
 For the boys have done their part. 
 
 And now it's up to you. 
 So you'd better buy some Victor}^ Bonds 
 
 And buy them P. D. Q. 
 
 March 30, 1919. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 109 
 
 THAT WAS THE DAY 
 
 Some people have poor memories, 
 
 But I think that you remember, 
 What a grand and glorious time we had. 
 
 On the eleventh of last November; 
 When we got the word from over there. 
 
 That fighting soon would cease; 
 That the Germans had thrown up their hands. 
 
 And were ready to sue for peace. 
 That was the day that this old world, 
 
 Will never, never forget; 
 That was the day ex-Kaiser Bill, 
 
 Will forever more regret; 
 That was the day when freedom's song, 
 
 Re-echoed far and wide; 
 That was the day autocracy. 
 
 Gave up the ghost and died; 
 That was the day the Kaiser learned 
 
 Might isn't always right; 
 That was the day the Germans learned 
 
 That American boys would fight; 
 That was the day when victory perched 
 
 Upon the Allied flag; 
 That was the day we showed the world. 
 
 We could fight as well as brag; 
 That was the day the fighting ceased — 
 
 But there's a lot of debts to pay. 
 
110 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 And Uncle Sammy needs the cash, 
 And needs it right away. 
 
 Now the boys all done their duty, 
 From the doughboy to the gob; 
 
 So it's up to you to buy more bonds, 
 And finish up the job. 
 
 April 14, 1919. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 111 
 
 YOU MUST BE AN AMERICAN 
 
 I do not care from whence you came, 
 
 Or if you're black or white; 
 You may have come from Sunny France, 
 
 Or England's isle so tight; 
 You may have come from Holland, 
 
 Or far off Hindoostan; 
 But if you want to stay in the U. S. A. 
 
 You must be an American. 
 
 You may have come from Ireland, 
 
 Where the fields are always green; 
 You may have come from Italy, 
 
 Whose skies are so serene. 
 You may have been a Belgian, 
 
 Or a Scandinavian; 
 But if you want to stay in the U. S. A. 
 
 You must be an American. 
 
 You may have come from the isles of Greece, 
 
 Or Serbia's mountain side; 
 You may have come from Switzerland, 
 
 Or the Russian fields so wide; 
 You may have come from Chinaland, 
 
 Or even from Japan; 
 But if you want to stay, in the U. S. A. 
 
 You must be an American. 
 
112 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 You may have come from Germany, 
 
 Or you may have come from Spain; 
 You may have come from Austria, 
 
 Or Roumania's fertile plain; 
 You may have come from Turkey, 
 
 Or from some Bulgarian clan; 
 But if you want to stay in the U. S. A. 
 
 You must be an American. 
 
 So I say it makes no difference, 
 
 The place from whence you came; 
 But when you come to the U. S. A. 
 
 YouVe got to play our game; 
 And if you do it on the square. 
 
 There's nothing will prevent. 
 From making you an American, 
 
 That is one hundred percent. 
 
 Nov. 25, 1919. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 113 
 
 THE KID IS HOME AGAIN 
 
 The kid who was called to the colors, 
 
 Is home from the service now; 
 He's laid aside his army togs, 
 
 And is eating regular chow. 
 He says the army rations. 
 
 Have destroyed his appetite; 
 But he thinks that good home cooking. 
 
 Will bring it back all right. 
 
 No more he gives attention. 
 
 To the sound of fife and drum; 
 Though their music once enthralled him. 
 
 He now is both deaf and dumb; 
 For him the call of the bugle. 
 
 Is naught but an empty sound. 
 And the only music that interests him, 
 
 Is the bay of the hunting hound. 
 
 No more he does guard duty. 
 
 On storm-swept hill or plain; 
 No more he hikes, with pack on his back. 
 
 Through the mud, the slush, and the rain; 
 And he wouldn't salute a second Lieut., 
 
 To gain a D. S. C, 
 He says it's a case of S. 0. L. 
 
 If he ever must do K. P. 
 
114 A LITTLE BOOK OF 
 
 He's tired of din of battle, 
 
 Of war's pomp and display; 
 He says disputed questions, 
 
 Should be settled some other way. 
 He hasn't developed a yellow streak. 
 
 Nor he's not too proud to fight; 
 But he thinks a little good horse sense, 
 
 Would settle all questions right. 
 
 Just a kid, when called to the colors. 
 
 He now is a man, full grown; 
 He's seen the ways of this old world. 
 
 Has opinions now of his own; 
 He has no use for the jingo. 
 
 Nor the man that's inclined to brag; 
 But he's just as patriotic now. 
 
 As when he followed the flag. 
 
 So he's joined the American Legion, 
 
 A band that is tried and true; 
 They're all one hundred percenters. 
 
 And the rest of us should be, too. 
 He says we must remember. 
 
 Not to let our vigilance lag. 
 For there's only room, in U. S. A. 
 
 For one tongue, and one flag. 
 
 Dec. 12, 1919. 
 
HOOSIER VERSE 115 
 
 WILL THEY BE OUR HEROES THEN? 
 
 When the boys have all returned 
 
 From the battle's stern array; 
 When the cheerings and the shoutings, 
 
 Have all died away; 
 When the flag no longer flutters. 
 
 Over hill and dale and glen; 
 Will we be as patriotic? 
 
 Will they be our heroes then? 
 
 When "No Man's Land" no longer 
 
 Is but a catchy phrase; 
 Where the poppies may be blooming, 
 
 Where the cows and horses graze; 
 Where the birds are wont to warble, 
 
 Undisturbed by fighting men; 
 Will we be as patriotic? 
 
 What will be our feelings then? 
 
 As the years go rolling onward. 
 
 Will we pay the debt we owe. 
 To the boys who battled for us. 
 
 Vanquishing a dastard foe? 
 Will we write their deeds of valor 
 
 With an e'er unfading pen? 
 Will we be as patriotic? 
 
 Will they be our heroes then? 
 
116 HOOSIER VERSE ^ 
 
 Let us show them, while they're living, 
 
 We are pleased with what they've done; 
 In defending home and loved ones. 
 
 From an autocratic Hun. 
 If it takes a billion dollars. 
 
 Let us cure their every ill. 
 Show them that we're patriotic. 
 
 That they are our heroes still. 
 
 Jan. 18, 1920.