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Show ONCE A SOLDIER. I have been a mg'lar soldier Seven roamin' years, my friend, An' I never chased a Greaser An' I never went to France, Never been a corporal, An' my hitch is night V end,. But I hates f peel th' leggings oft An' shed my khaki pants. For soldierin' Is soldierin' We know is devlish well An" the army is th' puddin', Though we often say it's hell; An'. It frets y' But. it gels y'! I iUWltL.'JIW. I.I -C-. l. ,,,l Why y' can't exactly tell. Whon I gets to be a "eivle" I suppose that I'll be "glad, Though the barracks Is the nearest To a home I ever had. An' the boys'U go to Mexico An' raise a pot of fun; An' I'll be in th' office. Gosh! I wish I wasn't done! For soldierin' Is soldierin' A lure y' can't resist; An the array is the puddin' Though we often will Insist That it frets y' But it gets y Hell' I guess I'll re-enlist! J. A. Galahad in Life. Nowadays the matter of choosing a p . lady to christen our battleships isn't v so much a matter of social standing t as has she got the Champagne? The Boston Transcript claims that 1' a man is a good deal like a pencil in J that in order to make his mark lie 11 has to be sharp and also has to bo pushed. fjl Sickness is a boon to every doc- II tor. |