The draft? It scares me not at all–
Did you ever GARDEN from spring to fall?
Could army’s labour ever faze
One who’s been through this gard’ning daze?
I’ll give you hoe and rake and spade
For rifle or Commando raid;
I will my dread of blisters trade
For terror of the hand grenade.
Hoeing ’em sure be tougher life
Than spud de-nuding a la knife.
If drilling in the sun sounds hot,
You oughtta work my garden plot.
How could I fear the Japs’ attack?
Mosquitoes, too, stab in the back;
And how respect, Herr Hitler’s blitz,
With insects here at home like thitz?
Of course, I love my home, but Gee
This gardening is NOT FOR ME.
And if they drag me off to war,
I’ll not hafta anymore.
Yes, NOW the draft would welcome be–
But they’ll wait til WINTER-time for me!
by Ray Romine Monday, April 12, 1943
