Let someone cook up a hay-ride,
Hitch old Dobbin to the Shay;
We will have, when nights are frosty,
Fun the good ol’ Marion way.
We’ll end up at someone’s kitchen,
Yours or mine as like as not,
Where the cheer’ll be just as welcome
As the Chili in the pot.
Maybe, too, we’ll go a-carolling
If it should be Christmas Week,
And the glow from our companions
Gives us all the thrill we seek.
Let me at a Skating Party
Up at Crystal Lake once more;
Let me lead a lively lassie
Here and yon about the floor;
Let us wheel, and stroke the corners,
Let us fall and break our ….date,
Just so long as there’s breath in me,
That’s how long, friend, I would skate.
Take me on another picnic
Out where trees are trees, I beg.
I will eat potato salad,
I will even munch an egg.
I’ll say naught about mosquitos,
Or the midges or the flies;
After all, back in Ohio
They don’t grow to Army size!
I won’t gripe about cold coffee,
I won’t squawk about the beets–
I’ll inhale it all, a-shouting,
“Rowdy-dow, CIVILIAN eats!”
I could use a bit of ping-pong
In a basement I could name,
With a half-a-dozen fellows
Who are scattered–what a shame;
I could guzzle pop and pretzels,
(Bud might bring his grape-Juice, too)
Though we never beat his playing,
We could see what we can do!
Yes, I’d love to take a Bike-Hike
With the kids back home I know,
Past the woods and through the meadow
Where the rain-washed daisies grow:
Feel the wind upon our faces,
And the sun upon our backs,
Hear the yelling and discussions,
Interspersed with crazy cracks;
And we’d shout and toss a joke back
To the one who lags behind.
Even though we’re all exhausted,
No one really seems to mind.
We might even stop at Isaly’s
For a soda or a ‘shake;
I’m Just dreaming: please, saliva,
Can the drool, for heaven’s sake!
Then again around the camp-fire,
When the moon is rising slow,
And the League, both girls and fellows,
Sings a song we love and know,
I would like to breathe a prayer
With them, as they’re standing bowed,
Just to thank Him we’re together
One time more, the Salem crowd.
No, no word about my family
Have I said, at least to date,
Still–between the lines they’re with me
All the time, at any rate.
Ever wonder what a Soldier
Dreams about when he’s -away?
It’s these things he’ll do on furlough–
COME YOU QUICKLY, HAPPY DAY!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, July 14, 1943
