You chose no easy Service,
No safe job, friends of mine,
But the mud of the shell-torn, trenches
And the foremost battle-line.
No camouflage patriotism —
Though you had from a wealth to choose
But the wicked work of No Man's Land,
Filling a man's-size shoes.
You did n't say you would n't play
If you got no shoulder bars —
You even placed your Country
Above a general's stars:
For shocking, very shocking,
You did n't give a damn
About your “social status,”
When you fought for Uncle Sam.
Friends of mine, friends of mine,
I've shared your toil and tears —
Your dangers and your little woes,
When days were turned to years.
I may not make them understand
The things that you have done,
But God bless you and God keep you —
Every blessed mother's son.