THE YOUNG VETS.

We all know the face of the chap who can tell

How he led the victorious van,

Through whose terrible yell all the enemy fell

Or fled from this murderous man.

We all know the pate of the chap who was late,

Too late for a wound or a scar,

A year or two late for a soldierly fate,

And twenty too late for the war.

We all know the voice of Goliah the Great,

Who never smelt powder, you know,

Who came to the field of battle too late

To give little David a show.

We all know the tale of the chap who delights

To tell all the girls he can find

Of the terrible sights, of the feuds and the fights,

That he fought in the depths of his mind.

On a Century Map, we all know the chap

Who can trace his proud place without fear,

Who claims the drum-tap found him first in the gap,

Though he skulked forty miles in the rear.