The Soldier Boy
OH, come, little boy, it is time now for bed;
The sun has gone down and the west turns to red.
All night the tin sentries stand guard in your stead,
So lay aside your gun until the morning.
Oh, look, little boy, see the stars where they peep.
When taps once has sounded, then soldiers should sleep.
The foe they must conquer, and watch they must keep,
When reveille shall call them in the morning.
Oh, rest, little boy, in your bed soft and white;
It's drums for the daytime, and dreams for the night.
You're my little boy while the moon's shining bright,
But you shall be a soldier in the morning.
A Matter of Accent
TWO Irishmen went to an Episcopal church for the first time and were shown into a pew near the door. While they were waiting for the service to begin, one of them picked up a prayer-book, and after examining it for a short time, he turned to his friend: "Come, Pat, let's slide out of here while we can. This is no place for us; it's only for rich men. After every third prayer it says 'Collect.'" M. F.
In London Town
I'D like to visit London town,
And see the King walk through the streets,
And bow and lift his golden crown
To every little girl he meets.
And p'r'aps, if I said, "How d'ye do?"
He'd stop and chat with me a while,
And let me try his crown on, too,
And ask me how I liked the style.
And what if he should say to me,
"I'd love to have you know my wife;
Now, do come home with me to tea—
We'll lay an extra fork and knife."
I'm sure I'd go with all my heart;
And oh, the good things I would try!
Bag pudding, honey buns, cream tart!
And, best of all, live blackbird pie!
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Natural Taste
She. "Don't you just love roses, Mr. Hare?"
He. "Yes; but I must say I like cabbage better."
