You kept no roped-off rows of chairs
Or clubs “For Officers Only,”
But you toiled for John Doe when he was
Cold, tired, wet and lonely.
You did n't squander millions
On soldiers warming benches,
But you worked like blazes for the ones
That frequented the trenches.
You did n't stick to cast-iron rules
Of business most punctilious,
And you never treated Private Doe
With manner supercilious.
You had no boundless backing —
But just inside your doors
It seemed like, “Feel to home, Bill —
Sit down, the place is yours.”
Some things we fain remember —
Some things we fain forget —
But you, oh kindly people,
Live in our memory yet.