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Show I'LLPIDE IN HEAVEN WE'VE WE'-VE DONE OUR Will HELL Vernon Smith, brother of Mrs. Russell Rus-sell Clore of Caldwell, Idaho, joined the regular army some time ago and i is now stationed at Fort Sam Houston. Mrs. Clore received a letter from her brother a few days ago. Inclosed with the letter is a short poem which is popular among the boys who were on the border. The poem follows: I am sitting here a-thlnklng of the things I left behind, And I hate to put on paper what is running through my mind, We've dug a million trenches and cleared ten miles of ground, And a mean place this side of Hell I know is still unfound; But there's one great consllation, gather closely while I tell When we die we'll go to Heaven, for we've done our hitch In helL We've built a hundred kitchens for the cooks to stew our beans, We stood a hundred Guard Mounts, and cleared the camp latrines, We've washed a million moss kits and peeled a million spuds, We've made a million blanket rolls, and washed a million duds. The number of parades we've made would be very hard to tell, But we'll parade in Heaven, for we've done our hitch in Hell. "f M I 1 1 (i ; I I : We've killed a million rattlesnakes that tried to take our cots, We've shaken scores of centepedes from out our army socks, We've marched a hundred thousand miles and made a thousand camp3, And pulled a million cactus thorns from out our army pants; But when our work on earth is done our friends behind will tell, When they died they went to Heaven, they had done their hitch in Hell. When the final Taps is sounded and we lay asids life's cares, And we do the last parading up the shining golden staiis, And the angels bid us welcome and the harps begin to play. And draw a million canteen checks and spend them in a day, It is then we'll hear St. Peter tell us loudly with a yell. Take a front seat, (Nineteenth Infantry, Infan-try, you've done your hitch In Hell. From Caldwell Tribune. |