O, the comfort we feel When we finish a meal Consisting of rice cakes and whey; Because beyond question There's no indigestion At the end of a Meatless day.

When the "buck" dough doth rise From y'East to the skies And hot griddled pancakes--oh, say!

With sausages frying There's no use denying Your welcome, O Wheatless day.

When the house is afrost Without fuel: its cost Is more than we're able to pay: With our hearts all aglow We can thaw ice or snow Making light of a Heatless day.

When there's discord with wife There's a shadow on life That once was so sunny and gay; But billing and cooing Subordinate stewing At the end of a Sweetless day!

When will beefsteak and ham Not be sold by the gram?

How long will these high prices stay?

When the bad Profiteers Show contrition and tears At the dawn of a Cheatless day.

When our Soldiers in France Do their Indian dance And scalp all the Huns in the fray, The Kaiser will holler, With rope for a collar, At the end of his Ruthless day!

A PROTEST

While now 'tis meet to eat fish, eggs and maize, _Vice_ meat and wheat whene'er we dine or sup, So be it! but this protest I would raise-- In spite of warnings--veal keeps bobbing up!

A PRAYER

O Sun and Skies, that Hoover o'er our Fields Where Grains implanted lie, and Silos stand,-- Pour out thy Warmth and Rains till Hunger yields Thruout the World to our blest _Fodder_land!

SINCE THE LITTLE ONE CAME

I seem to have taken a new lease on life Since the little one came; I've lost the old grouch, and I say to my wife, Do you think I'm to blame Because I have changed in my feelings towards you Since the Little One came?

The furnace, 'tis true, gave me something to do, But I think it a shame That some tiny tie like the Little One here (How is Snooks for a name?) Was not sooner left on our doorstep, my dear!

The Store takes my time, but a very small part,-- It's all over at four!

I've cut Clancy's out and have made a new start; All my cronies are sore!

But what do I care? I have mended my ways, So I rush from the Store And hasten back home where the Little One plays On the rugged hall floor, And pick him up quick (O, how pretty he looks!) Without shutting the door; So anxious I am to caress little _Snooks_.

The chafing-dish chafes and the Joy-car is sore; We have given them up!

The Two-step and Bridge are tabooed evermore; There is Joy in our Cup!

We've cut out the movies and dining about For our own modest sup; And billiards and golfing, I've cut them both out!

As I did to the Hup.

With playthings and drum (and a ruppy, tup, tup!) Loaded up like a Krupp, I beat it to Snooky,--our _English Bull Pup_.

RUN ALONG, LITTLE GIRL!

Run along, Little Girl! for it's bed-time now: Your Dollies are sleepy and poor old Bow-wow Is weary and lonesome, curled up in a heap-- 'Twould take little rocking to put him to sleep!

Your Teddy Bear's growling: or is it a snore?

Perhaps he objects to his bed on the floor?

So pick up your treasures and when prayers are said-- Run along, Little Girl, and climb in to bed!

Run along, Little Girl! The Sandman is here; You've crowded too much into one day, I fear!

Poor, little, tired Girlie, you've worked at your play Till the bloom of your cheeks has faded away.

To-morrow, again, you can sit by the fire And dress all your Dollies in gala attire.

Say, Good Night! to your thimble, needle and seams; Run along, Little Girl, and sweet be your dreams!

Run along, Little Girl, and cover up tight!

There's nothing to harm you, no spooks in the night Nor Bogeymen glaring when you are awake; For they're _bad_ little girls that Bogeymen take.

To-morrow Bow-wow can be hitched to your sled And draw you to Grandma's to see Piggie fed; No harm can befall you when Mother is near; Run along, Little Girl, and G.o.d bless you, Dear!

A RETROSPECT

Picture a Home with love aglow and laughter Reverberating from each joist and rafter; A sweet-faced Mother kissing you "Good Night"!

With "Go to sleep! lest Santa Claus take fright And dashes by--leaving no books or toys For naughty, wide-eyed, little girls and boys."

Then see her tip-toe down the stairs, and trim The tree--a toy on ev'ry outstretched limb; The rocking-horse and wagon at the base, And candy-stockings in the big fireplace: For thus we retrospect to show, no other Would scheme and work and "fabricate" like Mother To make our Christmas Day a grand fruition, And keep the secret of its sweet tradition.

THE EAGLE SCREAMS

We have arrived! America is First!

Here Freedom cradled; here its paean burst Upon the ears of nations, near and far Till Light of Freedom is the Guiding Star Thruout the world; though Thraldom still obscures The Guiding Star where Tyranny endures.

'Twas ever thus till Boston's "Reb" array Upset King George's teapot in the Bay, And Pegasus, whom we Revere, astride His high-bred hobby, warned the countryside.

Before that time the Briton played the game Of _pour la tea_ or Golf (its proper name).

With confidence and bra.s.sie nerve, methinks, Until they struck a Bunker on our links That thwarted all their prowess--'pon my soul!

And left them groggy at the nineteenth hole.

But still they puttered 'round and drank our rum Till Washington's avenging time had come; When, with his army, steeled at Valley Forge, He, George the First, uncrowned the other George, And all the "red-b.r.e.a.s.t.s," from our eyries shooed Where now the Bird of Freedom guards his brood.