SOLDIERS

Gay flags flying down the street;

Comes the drum's insistent beat

Like a fierce, gigantic pulse,

And the screaming fife exults.

Soldier, soldier, spic and span,

Are n't you the lucky man;

Splendid in your gold and blue —

How the small boy envies you!

Oh, there's glory for you here —

Girls to smile and men to cheer;

Bands behind and bands before

Thrilling with the lust of War.

Soldier, soldier, proud as though

Marching to a sanguine foe,

Bravely would you face the brink

Fired with music, and with drink...

Stalwart warrior pass, and be

Glad you are not such as we —

We, who, without flags or drums,

March to battle in the slums.

Regiments of workers — we

Are a foolish soldiery,

Combating, till we convert,

Ignorance, disease and dirt...

Soldier, soldier, look — and then

Laugh at us poor fighting-men,

Struggling on, though every street

Is the scene of our defeat.

Laugh at us, who, day by day

Come back beaten from the fray;

We, who find our work undone —

We, whose wars are never won.

Gay flags flying down the street;

Comes the drum's insistent beat

Like a fierce, gigantic pulse —

And the screaming fife exults!