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Brother Jonathan sat by the kitchen fire, Nursin' his foot on his knee. "It's a turrible fight they're havin' out there, But they can't git over to me." And Jonathan jingled the coins in his han' An' thanked the good God for the sea. - Brother Jonathan [War] They were ordinary soldiers, just the common Jean and Hans, One from the valley of the Rhine and one from fair Provence. They were simple-hearted fellows--every night each said his prayer: The one prayed Vater Unser and the other Notre Pere. - Lord's Prayer [Prayer] Twelve mailed men sat drinking late, The wine was red as blood. Cried one, "How long them must we wait Ere we shall thunder at the gate, And crush the cursed brood?" Twelve men of iron, drinking late, Strike hands, and pledge a cup of hate: "The Day!" - The Day [War]
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