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Page 31 text:
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THE TATTLER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIfllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII The Wreck of Queensbury Knight The storm on the land was a display most grand Of the elements on a wild foray; Great trees crashed as the lightning flashed And the unburdened wind shrieked in ecstasy. But the storm on the sea caused many a tragedy Among the small and the aged craft , For e ' en goodly shifts were tossed like chips. And fear reigned fore and aft. The Queensbury Knight, made a gallant fight Against the Tritons, with the open sea as her goal. She struggled from the light that shone on the right. Which marked the dangerous Polynesian shoal. The captain grim watched till the morning dim Pictured, in a wiercl gray eerie light. The battered ship still held in the grip Of the God of Storms, of Danger, and Might. Aboard all was confusion, with oaths in profusion. As all rushed to and fro; And womens shrieks, mingled with the report of new leaks. And panic added to the horror and woe. Th ship was sinking, every seam was leaking, Th reaves of the deep rushed to the fray; Impatient at the restraint was their only complaint. And again they rushed over the prey. Th(‘ life boats were stranded as if previously branded By Fate, on the reefs of that South Sea Isle; No escape could be had for the good or the bad; Nemesis was impartial; some died cursing, others with a smile. Men have died in glory, praised in song and story. But none were ever more brave or noble than those If ho lie in a watery grave, unmarked by slab or stave Recorded in Heaven as, “ Those whom 1I ’ hath chose. Page Twenty-nine
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Page 30 text:
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THE TATTLER iiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiimiim Have you ever stopped for a moment And sat down in a deep sea of mud, So weak, so tired and weary. Your feet all covered with blood? Have you ever struggled to be manly While the wierd forms surround you and leer And your heart in blind passion cries slaughter? It’s a devil — a monster — that fear! Have you ever tried to sleep in the open, Lying shivering, wet on the ground. Or to crawl in a damp barn for shelter While the bombs drop thickly around? Have you clenched hands that were frozen. Striving vainly the life blood to flotv? My God, it’s a night full of horror! I have been there, and I know! (Written by an A. E. F. Soldier shortly after the battle of Argonne Forest .) Page Twenty-eight
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Page 32 text:
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THE TATTLER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIII|||||||||||||||||IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII|||||||||||||||||||||||||| Psalm of Modern Life Tell me not in ragtime numbers Life is but a vaudeville joke; For the guy gets left who slumbers, And the slothful gink goes broke. Life is speedy, life is huried; Life is speedy, life is hurried; And at that we’re always worried Lest we take some fellow’s dust. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. Makes us pause beside the way. For we know we’ll starve tomorrow. If we don’t make good today. Life is short, and time is beating All past records in its flight; Soon of mornings we’ll be meeting Ourselves going home at night! In the world’s big game of grabbing Everything that’s worth two beans. Each of us is madly stabbing At success — by any means. Trust no man, but get the money ! Capture it, alive or dead. Get it by fair means — or phony — Anything to get ahead! Lives of grabbers all remind us We must grab and graft and fleece. Keeping one eye trained behind us. Lest we’re grabed — by the police! Grabbed, perhaps, and sent to languish Where we’ll wear a ball and chain. While the world mocks at our anguish; Mocks us and takes heart again. Page Thirty
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