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 affairs
Thirteen times, already.
I see I’ve acquired some gray hairs,
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
