Category: War

Sing the soldiers’ praise today
With fervor misbegotten;
For they’re aware (and so are we)
Tomorrow–they’re forgotten.

It’s “G.I. Joes” , and “those Heroes”
Folks call the boys in brown,
For they keep the fighting from us,
And our unemployment down.

Munitions-kings should sing their praise:
They’re adding to your riches.
My own small voice will not be heard,
If I call you ______ !

How to thank each muddy Yank
Who gave, and gave so well?
Who crawled, for a thanks he’ll never get
Into the teeth of Hell?

We will buy a bond or two,
To show appreciation,
And cash it when the ink is dry
To clinch our consecration.

Shop-workers, for more money strike–
If that is what you will;
The boys can wait; or negotiate
With that machine-gun on the hill.

We can beat the rationing
On meats and gasoline;
Who doesn’t is a “sucker”,
And his like is seldom seen.

The boys are sure it’s all worthwhile,
For when the truce is written
Fast asleep, our statesmen will
Lose what they’ve gained, to BRITAIN!
…
These are more than patriots,
And these are more than friends;
For they know they’ll be forgotten ‘
When the shocking shambles ends.

by Ray Romine Sunday, December 31, 1944

I see where in Washington town
They’re having their squabbles.
For some are out gunning tor Brown,
Whose supremacy wobbles.

Vice-President Wallace, and Jones
Each other would smother;
Unless they sott-pedal those tones.
They’ll catch up each other.

The Press and our friend, F.D.R.
Just can’t get together.
I think they should argument bar,
And stick to the weather.

There’s nothing quite like a good fight,
But it’s driving me wacky:
This fuss that’s concerning the fright
About fathers in khaki!

The paper tonight says I shall
Be a soldier tomorrow;
But the one in the morning says, “Pal,
Why grief do you borrow?

“The Army won’t get get you til fall–“
(Some rosy-hued tinter)
“–It may never catch you at all”,
(Or not before winter).

I kiss all the family goodbye as
To Hershey we listen;
As Senator Wheeler stands by us,
I do some unkissin’.

They’ve inteviewed chaps for my Job,
And broken them in, too–
Next day, and I up again bob:
Once more, we continue.

I’ve wound up my several affairs
Thirteen times, already.
I see I’ve acquired some gray hairs,
And my nerves aren’t steady.

I’m wishing with all of my might with
The facts they’d acquaint me–
It’s not that I’m itching to fight. but
IS we or AIN’T we?

If they don’t make their minds up soon, by Heck,
They’ll get, when they DO take, a Nervous Wreck!

by Ray Romine Sunday, July 25, 1943

That point has now been reached where for the few things
left for which you pay no tax,
You have to diplomatic wax,
And secure a written permission
From a Board or some Commission.
If you want to tighten the valve on your steam radiator, or hang a picture,
You have to ask Washington through a Congressman, or some other ficture.
A friend of mine, because he had to wait two weeks on permission to have a bathroom leak repaired, became an amphibian;
And, although he had always been considered more of a poor fish than a swimmer, won himself at the sport a blue ribian.
And another, because no grant to put a new handle on his lunch bucket was handy,
Did a fast that put completely to shame the good Mahatma Ghandi.
Tat for tit, and tit for tat.
Permission for this, and permission for that.
And it’s most inconceivably inconvenient at times, for it’s common knowledge that a refrigerator always fails in the hottest weather, and a furnace in January,
To catch the unwary. Or even the wary. Disgusting, very.
And a chap who sits for 31 days in a furnaceless house in Jan.
Awaiting a permit to fix said furnace, is apt to wind up a
frozen-face, or maybe a dead-pan.
They won’t be able to tell a Yankee from his Chinese cousin across-the-sea if one fails
To get a dispensation to trim his nails.
Or slack his sails.
Or wear his tails.
Or clean his pails.
Or date his frails.
Don’t hesitate when you want to empty that waste-basket
To hunt up the proper Board and its permission asket Although it is still unrestricted I sense
Soon it will be illegal to laugh without a license.
I can see pnly one way to treat all this with the proper
derision:
Get authority to sit on the Board that passes out the permission.
When it comes down to where you have to ask for and wait on
permission to burp,
A couple of fellows in our office are destined to blow urp.
Which proves quite definitely that, if we take the trouble to turn it over and look at the right side
Even the darkest of clouds has its bright side!

by Ray Romine Sunday, May 9, 1943

O harkit, O harkit to Jimmie’s Food Market,
At Cherry and Ellum Streets,
For he has all manner ·
Of things from the canner,
And Oooo what a line of meats!

And if my points weren’t gone, about,
I’d throw all this up and dash right out.
You can always park it at Jimmie’s Market,
If you’ve tires on your Chevvy, I mean;
It isn’t far,
If you’ve a car,
And a tankful of gasoline.

Yes, you can park at James’s Market,
But you gotta drive before you park it.

There’s yum and there’s more yum at Jim’s Food Emporium–
We’ll walk it, that’s what we’ll do!
But then I find
What’s slipped my mind–
That shoes’re rationed, too.

We’d walk in spite of gasoline,
If it weren’t for coupon seventeen.

It’s “Yessir”, and “No-sirree” at Jimmie-lad’s Grocery–
(The courtesy-center is it)
But I can’t, doggonitt,
Endure long uponitt,
When FOOD is so dash’d hard to git.

Politeness I could do with a little lessable
When groceries are so utterly inaccessible.

But it’s harkit, O harkit, lookout, Jimmie’s Market–
Here’re coupons that we’d overlooked;
And our neighbor’s amassed
Gas to get there at last,
Though a whole lot of trouble it tooked.
……………..
Please, Jimmie, repeat it, I can’t believe you said it–
You won’t sell me even a n onion on credit?”
It’s a wee bit ironic, or actually funny
After all we’ve been through, you can hold out FOR MONEY!

by Ray Romine Sunday, May 2, 1943

Aunt Susan threw her paper down,
And glared at Uncle Zeke;
“Th’ Manpower Shortage MUST be bad:
You’re allowed 2 gals a week!”

by Ray Romine Saturday, April 1, 1944

How true it is that we who stay behind
Can find us useful too;
For there’s for each, if he is so inclined,
Real work at home to do.

Red Cross, Blood Bank, War Bonds, and war-jobs’ noise
Are vital, if the War
Be won for us; but I believe the Boys
Expect just one thing more

When they return: they want a Church still here,
And we must not neglect
God’s House, in spite of other work’s severe
Demands. Though, I expect,

Some are who feel “The Church must always be,
And so why worry now
In times like these?” But this is sophistry
For right to disavow.

That “God takes Care of His” is true enough,
But truer yet it is
That He will help the man who has the stuff
To make God’s business his!

A. Non Emous

by Ray Romine Sunday, September 19, 1943

Oh Army Life, of Thee I sing:
No shortages, no rationing;

Lots of prunes, and scads of beans ,
And plenty more behind-th’ scenes;

Lots of stuff they say is meat–
Not to name, but just to eat!

Clothes we see in plenty, too:
O.D. is the thing for you.

It may not match your hair and eyes,
But you look like all the other guys.

(And the color of your week-day undies
Resembles those you’ll wear on Sundays.)

Shoes we have, and where I’m stationed,
Footwear SIZES aren’t rationed.

The Manpower situation’s grand–
Crowds of halp on every hand.

POINT’s Just something it’s not polite to;
TOKEN’s what you’ve been when the dice do what dice do.

About the only place where we get a rimmin’,
The civilian has (and we ain’t got) women–

And many a veteran with experience behind ‘im
Says those can be had if you know where to find ’em.

Add it all up, and I think you’ll see
Why a civilian’s job looks TOUGH TO ME!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 4, 1944

When we played, as kids, and food was wishes,
We’d “pretend-eat” from empty dishes.

We’re grown up now, except for eating:
History is now repeating!

by Ray Romine Saturday, April 10, 1943

O weapon, long-neglected, standing there
Dust-gathering in a corner of my room,
Forget these useless yeers–dispel your gloom.
I touch your blade tonight with loving care,
As did your lord and master, my forbear,
And sense the tension of a pent-up doom
For all save you, and War, and cannon’s boom;
And yet, through sturdy you, I am aware,
By trading well-loved, known, and handled books,
And easy chair, and slippers by the fire,
And warm dry clothes, and comfy sheltered nooks,
Small bit of privacy when we retire,
For such as you, we make a nation free.
My turn is now ….. In spirit, go with me!

by Ray Romine Wednesday, December 15, 1943

Although this earth is torn apart today,
And greed already threatens post-war peace
Because no man will one small whit decrease
His aim at things that help his selfish way;
In spite of moral lapse and thought decay
That cry out to us, “Wars will never cease”,
Our country has a sort of doubtful lease
On something better through Thanksgiving Day.
For what is needed more in our world now
Than just a bit of faith; of seeking God,
(If only for a day); of giving thanks
For what we have? The Pilgrim showed us how
To look above the earth we dully plod,
And find alliance with the Angels’ ranks.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 26, 1944