OUR WHITE HAIRED SOLDIER BOY
Over here in war torn France,
Among the Americans and the French,
There is a jovial white-haired boy
Working daily at a bench.
No doubt you wonder, what he does to
Pass his time away,
So I'll inform you one and all,
He cobbles day by day.
There was a time when shoes were scarce,
And very hard to get,
And every time we went out,
Our feet got soaken wet.
Indeed it was no joy.
When the Skipper said "what shall we do",
Up stepped this white-haired boy.
"Oh sir, I'll tell you, we can do it if you choose,
Just get me a hammer and a box of tacks,
And I'll repair the shoes".
The Skipper looked surprised at first,
And then we heard him say,
"We'll get you all the tools you'll need,
Yes, we'll get them right away".
The Skipper kept his part of the bargain,
And our boy kept his alright,
For he worked like mad day by day,
And also many a night.
Once more we have good shoes to wear,
Our feet are nice and dry,
Although there was many a fragent prayer
Sent up to the sky.
We know to whom the credit goes,
OUR WHITE HAIRED SOLDIER BOY.
Pvt. Clarence L. Kindler
About 1917 in France, WW1