A Small Boy's Desire

        Written for the first thrift stamp drive.


        I want to be a soldier
            And march away to France;
        I want to find a wicked "Hun,"
            And shoot him in the pants.

        I want to be a soldier,
            And wear a khaki suit;
        I want to have a sword and gun
            And all the "Boches" shoot.

        I want to be a soldier,
            And have an aeroplane
        To drop bombs on the German towns,
            And fly back home again.

        I want to be a soldier
            And do my little bit;
        My country needs brave fighting men,
            While here at home I sit.

        Some day I'll be a big, big man;
            I'll go to war and fight
        The wicked Hun, or any one
            Who does not do what's right.

        But now the only way for me
            To help my country win,
        Is save my coin and buy thrift stamps,
            So, boys, let's save our tin.

Alan L. Strang

No biography available

Alan L. Strang

The Roses

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

Our Soldier Boy

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

The Seasons

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

English

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Our Soldier Boy

        Written as a tribute to my brother, W. M. Strang, with the Engineers.


        He said, "I'm Daddy's soldier boy,"
            When he was five years old;
        And then went out and built snow forts,
            Although the day was cold.

        The snowballs were his hand grenades,
            A stick his bayonette;
        And with a home-made wooden gun
            The foe he bravely met.

        In five more years he joined the "scouts"
            And hiked across the hills;
        He learned to wear a khaki suit,
            And do military drills.

        And so the years passed swiftly on,
            And now he is a man;
        He's in the trenches over there,
            Fighting for Uncle Sam.

  ...

Alan L. Strang

Our Boys

        Written after the United States entered the war, fighting on the side of the Entente Allies.


        Halt! Attention! Salute the flag,
            The boys are marching by;
        They're going forth to win the war
            For us to do or die.
        Our country needed fighting men,
            Her liberty to save;
        These boys responded to the call,
            And all they had they gave.

        All loyal hearts are beating fast,
            And hope our bosoms fill;
        For liberty shall reign supreme
            O'er ocean, dale and hill.
        With no regrets for parted hopes
            Or futures cast aside,
        Our soldier boys are marching by;
            They are our country's pride.

Alan L. Strang

His Boys

"I'm going, Billy, old fellow. Hist, lad! Don't make any noise.
There's Boches to beat all creation, the pitch of a bomb away.
I've fixed the note to your collar, you've got to get back to my Boys,
You've got to get back to warn 'em before it's the break of day."

The order came to go forward to a trench-line traced on the map;
I knew the brass-hats had blundered, I knew and I told 'em so;
I knew if I did as they ordered I would tumble into a trap,
And I tried to explain, but the answer came like a pistol: "Go."

Then I thought of the Boys I commanded - I always called them "my Boys" -
The men of my own recruiting, the lads of my countryside;
Tested in many a battle, I knew their sorrows and joys,
And I loved them all like a father, with more than a father's pride.

Robert William Service

Albert And His Savings

One day, little Albert Ramsbottom
To see 'ow much money 'e'd got
Stuck a knife in 'is money-box slot 'ole
And fiddled and fished out the lot.

It amounted to fifteen and fourpence
Which 'e found by a few simple sums
Were ninety two tuppenny ices
Or twice that in penn'orths of gums.

The sound of the chinkin' of money
Soon brought father's 'ead round the door
He said, "Whats that there, on the table?"
Albert said it were, "Fifteen and four."

"You're not going to spend all that money..."
Said Pa, in an admonitory tone
"On toffee an' things for your stomach."
Said Mother, "Why not?... it's his own."

Said Pa, "Nay, with that fifteen shillings,
We'll buy National Savings and then...
In five years we'll have seventeen and six
And...

Marriott Edgar

The Boy Patriot

I want to be a Soldier! -
    A Soldier! -
        A Soldier! -
I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand
Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,
Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band;
I want to hear, high overhead, The Old Flag flap her wings
While all the Army, following, in chorus cheers and sings;
I want to hear the tramp and jar
    Of patriots a million,
As gayly dancing off to war
    As dancing a cotillion.

I want to be a Soldier! -
    A Soldier! -
        A Soldier! -
I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand
Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,
Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band.

I want to see the batt...

James Whitcomb Riley

A Soldier's Valentine.

Just from the sentry's tramp
(I must take it again at ten),
I have laid my musket down,
And seized instead my pen;
For, pacing my lonely round
In the chilly twilight gray,
The thought, dear Mary, came,
That this is St. Valentine's Day.

And with the thought there came
A glimpse of the happy time
When a school-boy's first attempt
I sent you, in borrowed rhyme,
On a gilt-edged sheet, embossed
With many a quaint design,
And signed, in school-boy hand,
"Your loving Valentine."

The years have come and gone,--
Have flown, I know not where, --
And the school-boy's merry face
Is grave with manhood's care;
But the heart of the man still beats
At the well-remembered name,
And on this St. Valentine's Day
His choice is still t...

Horatio Alger, Jr.