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Title: The East Is A'calling
Author: W. E. Christian [
More Titles by Christian]
They say that the East is alluring;
The balmy green isles of the sea.
But with all their wild splendor assuring,
They have no fascination for me.
I camped with the boys at Siassi,
Way down in that sequestered isle,
Where the garb of a primitive lassie,
Was naught save a gee string and smile.
I hiked o'er the hog trails of Jolo,
In the blistering rays of the suns,
As the wild savage wielding his bolo,
Fell beneath the onslaught of our guns.
With a cartridge belt, rifle and knapsack,
I tramped through the wooded ravine,
On a ration of hard tack and bacon,
And a swig from a rusty canteen.
In Mindanao island so dreary,
From Malabang to Hawaiian hill,
Ever faithful though footsore and weary,
I shouldered my Krag for the drill.
On the outpost when night darkened o'er us
A lone vigil I kept through the rain,
And watched for the bloodthirsty Moros,
That prowled through the desolate cayan.
I have seen the half clad Filipino,
In his nipa thatched shack in Luzon,
Dispensing the tuba and bino,
Amidst our gay laughter and song.
At eve the brown-hued senoritas,
Strolled leisurely over the green,
In hobbles and gaudy camisas,
Their more loving than handsome queens,
They may say the East is a'calling,
The picturesque isles of the sea,
But with all their wild splendor enthralling,
They have no fascination for me.
[The end]
W. E. Christian's poem: East Is A'calling
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