“If you repent,” the Parson said," Your sins will be forgiven. Aye, even on your dying bed You’re not too late for heaven." That’s just my cup of tea, I thought,

When first I left Blighty they gave me… And told me it ‘ad to be smothered wiv g… But blimey! I ’aven’t been able to stai… So far as I’ve gone wiv the vintage of… For ain’t it a fraud! when a Boche and…

Navels Men have navels more or less; Some are neat, some not Being fat I must confess Mine is far from hot.

The cruel war was over—oh, the triumph w… We watched the troops returning, through… There was triumph, triumph, triumph down… And you scarce could hear the music for… And you scarce could see the house—tops…

Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold!… Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired w… Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from th… Heard we the clarion summons, followed t… Men from the sands of the Sunland; men…

I sought Him on the purple seas, I sought Him on the peaks aflame; Amid the gloom of giant trees And canyons lone I called His name; The wasted ways of earth I trod:

It’s a mighty good world, so it is, dear… When even the worst is said. There’s a smile and a tear, a sigh and a… But better be living than dead; A joy and a pain, a loss and a gain;

No, Bill, I’m not a—spooning out no pat… (The cove be’ind the sandbags ain’t a de… And though I strafes ‘em good and ’ard… I guess they’re mostly decent, just the… I guess they loves their 'omes and kids…

Clorinda met me on the way As I came from the train; Her face was anything but gay, In fact, suggested pain. “Oh hubby, hubby dear!” she cried,

Bed and bread are all I need In my happy day; Love of Nature is my creed, Unto her I pray; Sun and sky my spirit feed

Said Jock McBrown to Tam McSmith, “A little bet I’m game to take on, That I can scotch this Shakespeare myth And prove Will just a stoodge for Bacon… Said Tam McSmith to Jock McBrown,

(With apologies to the singer of the “S… I’m a homely little bit of tin and bone; I’m beloved by the Legion of the Lost; I haven’t got a “vox humana” tone, And a dime or two will satisfy my cost.

Her little head just topped the window—s… She even mounted on a stool, maybe; She pressed against the pane, as childre… And watched us playing, oh so wistfully! And then I missed her for a month or mo…

You see that sheaf of slender books Upon the topmost shelf, At which no browser ever looks, Because they’re by . . . myself; They’re neatly bound in navy blue,

The God of Scribes looked down and saw The bitter band of seven, Who had outraged his holy law And lost their hope of Heaven: Came Villon, petty thief and pimp,