 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
161
THE MILITIAMAN.
He revels in scenes of blood and gore,
Where the terrible bomb is hurled;
He slaughters the foe and he calls for more,
And he wears his mustache curled.
Where the terrible bomb is hurled;
He slaughters the foe and he calls for more,
And he wears his mustache curled.
All into the midst of the fight he flies,
Where the smoke makes sunlight dusk;
He loves to listen to dying cries,
His favorite scent is musk.
Where the smoke makes sunlight dusk;
He loves to listen to dying cries,
His favorite scent is musk.
His sabre gleams like a shooting star,
He is full of martial oaths;
His constant talk is of blood and war,
He wears ten-dollar clothes.
He is full of martial oaths;
His constant talk is of blood and war,
He wears ten-dollar clothes.
January 22d, 1882.
| A little book of tribune verse | |