Oh, child of a year, do you wonder what here
upon earth you shall find? 
America shows you a people united in purpose
and mind;
Whatever you bring us of danger, whatever you
hold to affright,
I pray that we never shall lower our standards
of truth and of right.

You find us a people united, full pledged to the
work of the world,
To banish the despot and tyrant, our banner in
battle’s unfurled;
And here to a world that is bleeding and weary
and heartsick you come,
Whatever you’ve brought us of duty—­we’ll
answer the call of your drum.

We may weep in our grief and our sorrows, we
may bend ’neath the might of the blow,
But never our courage shall falter, and never
we’ll run from the foe. 
We know not how troubled our pathways shall
be nor how sorely beset,
But I pray we shall cling to our honor as men
and never our purpose forget.

Our Duty to Our Flag

Less hate and greed
Is what we need
And more of service true;
More men to love
The flag above
And keep it first in view.

Less boast and brag
About the flag,
More faith in what it means;
More heads erect,
More self-respect,
Less talk of war machines.

    The time to fight
    To keep it bright
    Is not along the way,
    Nor ’cross the foam,
    But here at home
    Within ourselves—­to-day.

    ’Tis we must love
    That flag above
    With all our might and main;
    For from our hands—­
    Not distant lands—­
    Shall come dishonor’s stain.

If that flag be
Dishonored, we
Have done it—–­not the foe;
If it shall fall,
We, first of all,
Shall have to strike the blow.

         The Unsettled Scores

The men are talking peace at ’ome, but ’ere we’re talking fight,
There’s many a little debt we’ve got to square;
A sniper sent a bullet through my bunkie’s ’ead last night,
And ’is body’s lying somewhere h’over there.

Oh, we ’ear a lot of rumors that the war is h’almost through
But Hi’m thinking that it’s only arf begun;
Every soldier in the trenches has a little debt that’s due
And Hi’m telling you it’s not a money one.

    We ’ave ’eard the bullets whistle and we’ve ’card the shrapnel sing
      And we’ve listened to a dying comrade’s pleas,
    And we’ve ’eard about the comfort that the days of peace will bring,
      But we’ve debts that can’t be settled h’over seas.

    They that ’aven’t slept in trenches, ’aven’t brothered with the worms,
      ’Aven’t ’ad a bunkie slaughtered at their side,
    May some day get together and arrange some sort of terms,
      But it isn’t likely we’ll be satisfied.

There are debts we want to settle, ’and to ’and, and face to face,
There are one or two Hi’ve promised that Hi’d square;
And Hi cannot ’old my ’ead up, ’ere or in the other place,
Till Hi’ve settled for my bunkie, lying there.