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Written, We Freely Admit, In Some Bitterness

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

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