Folks at Home Let not your heart be troubled If your boy has gone to fight; Hes upholding truth and freedom, Hes fighting for the right! Hes gone to serve his country In the best way that he can; He is a boy no longer, Hes proved that hes a man! Lets help him in this struggle For our libertys at stake! Lets put our shoulder to the wheel Before it is too late! Lets give our dollars for de In memory of my pal, Lieut. Jack Corr, killed in action June, 1916: Somewhere in Flanders Theres a lonely spot That lingers in my memory. Tho it cannot be forgot, A soldier boy is lying. That was where he died As the batle raged in fury At the turning of the tide. Our sturdy captain shouted Along the crowded line, Which one of you will volunteer To mend a broken line One brave and young lieutenant stood up Without a thought of fear, Tho the deadly bombs and bullets Fairly whistled by his ear. Alas, that one stray bullet, Pierced the soldiers side, Caused a fatal death wound, And gallantry he died. He thot of home and mother, And ones that were so dear. Then put his hand upon the wound That ended his career. We buried him at midnite When the stars were shining bright, When the moon was softly beaming Thru the shadows of the night. A wooden cross now marks the spot Where his remains were laid Across the broad Atlantic Neath Flanders cedar shade. SPENDTHRIFT Today, some folks would say that I had been a spendthrift, I had so under valuated time, for one half hour, From my loved window, I watched the sunlight Wade through fog and smoke and shine. The earth was cold, the world had lost its moorings, Death and destruction spread from north to south, Another plane had crashed, folks broken hearted, We question, two feet higher up, nothing barred their route. I wonder? Will they render better service, With spirit unincumbered by the bodys weight? Perhaps theyll slip across some message Perchance, might stand the world up straight. So many gone, have brought me knowledge, Have waked me in the night to talk, I havent always caught and kept their message, Before they slipped away from where I walk.The distance is not far between us, The veil between so very, very thin, Some day some temperamental giant, Will pierce the veil and let us look within. Spendthrift, using time that is so precious, While others roll the bandage and prepare, To help to heal the world of lost battalions, The hypnotized with my spendthrift time Id snare. Mrs. C. R. Murchison, 578 Thirty second.