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Title: A Cynic's View Of Army Life
Author: W. E. Christian [
More Titles by Christian]
Once I was a farmer boy, a tiller of the soil,
I liked the work--I never was a chap to shirk from toil.
But I thought I'd choose a broader life (I must have been an ass).
I took on in the Army--and now I'm cutting grass.
I thought my farm life narrow, for there my simple work
Was planting things and tending them, and this I did not shirk.
I'd charge of all the horses, too, and handled them first class,
But since I joined the Army, I am simply cutting grass.
I get up in the morning to the sound of martial strain.
The sergeant says: "Go get that scythe and sharpen it again.
The grass has grown six inches, men, while we have been in bed,
So hustle, soldiers, hustle--don't let it get ahead."
The Chief of Staff sits up above and wonders "wot fell?"
The money goes by millions, but the Army is a sell.
We privates, if we dared to, could easy hit the mark,
It's grass that takes up all our time from early dawn to dark.
We all would like to soldier and get prepared for war;
It's what we left our happy homes and joined the Army for.
We'd like to learn our duties from "skirmish drill" to "mass."
But all we learn with Uncle Sam is grass, grass, GRASS!
I hate the sight of anything that has a color green;
My disposition's ruined and I have a swoolen spleen.
And when my time to cash in comes, I pray a gracious God,
That I'll be buried out at sea--not placed beneath the sod.
[The end]
W. E. Christian's poem: Cynic's View Of Army Life
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