THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE

Yes! I've done my bit, as you fellows would say, If serving one's country deserves any praise: Two years at the front, then an arm shot away! And this is my "cross" in reward for those days. But I can do more! While there's blood in my veins I'll give the last drop, while the hoof of the Hun Polluted and cloven in Alsace remains: Until France is free we must fight: every one! Of course I'll go back to the trenches again: My wound is fast healing and soon will be sound; Six chevrons have I, but I'll fight with the men Who fill up the shell-holes like moles in the ground. I'll charge with the Boys when they hurdle the top, The Tri-color lashed to my half-useless arm, With pistol or sword in my hand, till I drop: For Freedom is menaced: Go sound the alarm! France needs every son, be they crippled or strong, To rid our fair land of the murderous horde: So flock to the Colors, Brave Boys: come along! And fight till the Glory of France is restored! Our women are outraged, our children enslaved; Up, Frenchmen! and strike till the last dying breath! We can never turn back, so be it engraved On our spears and escutcheons,—Vengeance or Death!