HEINIE THE HOSTLER

He's not very handsome or clever,

He's slow in his wits — and he's fat,

And yet he's a soldier of Uncle Sam's —

Now, whaddy you know about that?

We always called him Dummy,

And thought he would n't fight;

We sneered at him and jeered at him —

He was — and is — a sight!

His feet are big, his head is small,

His German blood is slow,

But at the call for volunteers,

Why, did n't Heinie go?

He's workin’ as a hostler

( He used to be a clerk )

He do n't enjoy his job, that boy,

But Heinie is no shirk.

“This is my country just as much

As it is yours,” says he;

“I'm gonna do what I can do

To keep it mine!... You'll see!

“My father, he come over here

To get away from things;

He could n't abide on th’ other side —

Aristocrats and kings.

The Stars and Stripes mean liberty,

I've always understood;

So gimme the right to work — or fight —

I betcha I'll make good.

“As a chambermaid to horses

In a battery that's new,

The work is rough and mean enough

And would n't appeal to you;

But I've got my place and I'll stick to it —

Can any man do more?

I've never had a chance, like dad,

To prove myself before.”

Perhaps he wo n't get a commission;

Perhaps he is dull, and all that;

But somehow I feel that he's better than me —

Now whaddy you know about that?