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Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming Of a woodpecker a-rapping on the hollow of a tree; And she thought that I was fooling when I said it was the drumming Of the mustering of legions and 'twas calling unto me; 'Twas calling me to pull my freight and hop across the sea. And a-mending of my fish-nets sure I started up in wonder, For I heard a savage roaring and 'twas coming from afar; Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas only summer thunder, And she laughed a bit sarcastic when I told her it was War: 'Twas the chariots of battle where the mighty armies are. Then down the lake came Half-breed Tom with russet sail a-flying And the word he said was "War" again, so what was I to do ? Oh the dogs they took to howling and the missis took to crying, As I flung my silver foxes in the little birch canoe; Yes, the old girl stood a-bubbling till an island hid the view. Says the factor, "Mike, you're crazy! They have soldier men a-plenty. You're as grizzled as a badger and you're sixty year or so." "But I haven't missed a scrap," says I, "Since I was one and twenty. And shall I miss the biggest ? You can bet your whiskers ? no!" So I sold my furs and started ... and that's eighteen months ago. For I joined the Foreign Legion and they put me for a starter In the trenches of the Argonne with the Boche a step away; And the partner on my right hand was an apache from Montmartre; And on my left there was a millionaire from Pittsburgh, U.S.A. (Poor fellow! They collected him in bits the other day.) Well I'm sprier than a chipmunk, save a touch of the lumbago, And they calls me Old Methoosalah, and blagues me all the day. I'm their exhibition sniper and they work me like a Dago, And laugh to see me plug a Boche a half a mile away. Oh I hold the highest record in the regiment, they say. And at night they gather round me, and I tell them of my roam Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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