War Rhymes by Wayfarer (Paperback)

Excerpt: ... faithless church, the lying creed Teaching that wrong is right, The childless home, the heartless greed, The jealousy and spite. The feasting, selfish, idle rich, The hungry, hardened poor, The drunkard lying in the ditch, The brothel's open door; Whate'er we do, where'er we dwell, Whate'er our names or creeds, They total up in heaven or hell, The sum of all our deeds. We thought the race was to the swift, The battle to the strong, Like mariners with boat adrift, We heard the sirens' song, 54 We put our trust in armies vast, In battleships and marts, We deemed but hoodoos of the past The prayers from human hearts. So heavy grew the moral debt Of every class and rank, No further credit could we get At Satan's private bank. The wealth bestowed by sea and land We squandered in a day, The devil took our notes of hand, And now there's hell to pay. The world will drown in blood and tears, And famine stalk abroad, 'Til men repent their sordid years And humbly call on God. This cruel war the Kaiser made, (The worst since Satan fell, ) Will end when all the world has paid Its overdraft on hell. SLACKERS We condemn, as selfish slackers, Those not willing to enlist To oppose the Prussian Kultur And the Kaiser's iron fist, But they're not the only slackers, Those who will not go and fight. For every man's a slacker Who does less now than he might. There are slackers in the pulpit, In the elder's cushioned pew, And all through the congregation There are slackers not a few. There are slackers in the workshop, There are slackers on the farm, And slackers down in Parliament Whose defeat would do no harm. Some munition men are slackers, And some who store our food. While they dream of higher profits And of interest accrued. 55 We condemn the youthful shirker And we say his heart's not right, But there's many an arrant slacker Not eligible to fight. So let each and all get busy, If we would the Kaiser thrash. From the man who owns the millions To the girl who slings...