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The Bugle blows, And the fields deliver a valiant crop Of healthy manhood, their harvests drop And fatten crows ,The Drummer beats, And the sons of the sea resource them Their mothers, sweethearts, and their debta: Their sturdy teeta, Striped pantaloona, brass buttens and pleats that glorious, gaudy, winding sheets, Death's high disguise! Tenebral toys to woo and win Men to their graves for a nation’s sin or a statesman’s lies. Tens of hundreds in blue, and tens of hundreds In gray. Face the glare of the noonday aun in serried battle array. A dummy in red and gold, on an esta pading horse. Signals, the earth resounds with the clash of human force. The tens of hundreds in blue and the tens of hundreds in Remy Let Death loore then rekiew no beads and blow their souls away The dummy in red and sold rides to the setting sur, leaving behind a stream of blood, and talking of battle won. The Devil says, as he drives his ghouls Thank God that men are fools” JOHN KB. KENNEDY.
Newspaper Details
New York Times
New York, New York, US
Thu, Jul 30, 1914
Page 8
Full Page
Clipped by
R P.
USA 28 Jun 2026
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