'Hello, Soldier!', page 2 by Edward Dyson
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THE CRUSADERS
PEACE, BLESSED PEACE
THE HAPPY GARDENERS
THE GERM
JOEY'S JOB
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME
HOW HERMAN WON THE CROSS
WHEN TOMMY CAME MARCHING HOME
HELLO, SOLDIER!
THE MORALIST
REPAIRED
OUT OF KHAKI
THE SINGLE-HANDED TEAM
BATTLE PASSES
THE LETTERS OF THE DEAD
BULLETS
UNREDEEMED
THE LIVING PICTURE
THE IMMORTAL STRAIN
THE UNBORN
THE COMMON MEN
THE CHURCH BELLS
THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT
THE ONE AT HOME
THE HAPLESS ARMY
BILLY KHAKI
MARCHING somewhat out of order
when the band is cock-a-hoop,
There's a lilting kind of magic in the swagger
of the troop,
Swinging all aboard the steamer with her
nose toward the sea.
What is calling, Billy Khaki, that you're footing
it so free?
Though his lines are none too level,
And he lacks a bit of style.
And he's swanking like the devil
Where the women wave and smile,
He will answer with a rifle
Trim and true from stock to bore,
Where the comrades crouch and stifle
In the reeking pit of war.
What is calling, Billy Khaki? There is
thunder down the sky,
And the merry magpie bugle splits the morning
with its cry,
While your feet are beating rhythms up the
dusty hills and down,
And the drums are all a-talking in the hollow
of the town.
Billy Khaki, is't the splendor of the song the
kiddies sing,
Or the whipping of the flags aloft that sets
your heart a-swing?
Is't the cheering like