All winter long I prayed, 0 Lord,
I dodged would be by local board;
But I the draft no longer fear–
We’re gardening, Victory style, this year.
We soil’ve spaded, raked it fine
And sown the seed of plant and vine;
So wet ’twill be that swim things will,
Or dry, and tease the water-bill.
We’ll chase the bugs next door to Gus,
Who’ll later shoo ’em back to us.
We’ll pull up plant and leave the weed–
Then gently help it go to seed.
Our hands’ll blister, spines will crack;
There’ll be protestations from our back,
And remonstrations by our knees,–
We’ll fight the fight in spite of these.
Carry on for old Nutrition!
‘Tis the height of all ambition.
Mid-July may see us able
To lay a radish on the table.
So, take me, army, while I can
Still pass, perhaps, for half a man;
If march I must, to drum and fife,
Please take me NOW, and save a life.
‘Fore body folds and mind goes slurshy,
You’d better hurry, General Hershey!
by Ray Romine Thursday, April 8, 1943
