All mixed up with grusome stenches


III

Biff, an from there hellish lare
The shreeks of Germans rent the air.
Bloody lims lie on the ground.
Bits of Huns go flyin round.
Bang! And through the cannons roar
Is plainly herd the splashin gore.


IV

But this cannot go on for long,
Cause Uncle Sam is comin strong.
An when we charge the German line
We'll chuck the dam thing in the Rine.
An blood an slauter, rape an gore
In Bel Le France will rain no more.

Aint that terrible, Mable? I read it to one fello an he said it made him
absolutely sick. He said he didn't see how I could rite it without
gettin sick myself. Just between me an you Mable I did come pretty near
being once or twice when I was ritin it.

[Illustration: "IF I CATCH ONE OF THOSE AILIN ENEMIES WINDIN UP YOUR
VICTROLA"]