Home they come from Cuba Libre;
And they march with hastening feet
Underneath the floating banners,
Up the thronged and ringing street.
When you cheer your sunburnt heroes,
Do n't forget their pensioners small,
Led along, or perched on shoulder,
Four-foot, furry “mascots” all!
Comrades of the march and bivouac,
Sharers of the cup and can,
All unconscious of their portion
In the drama played by man.
Did they bring, perchance, good fortune
( As they brought their owners joy )?
Ask the youth who owns the “mascot” —
For a soldier's but a boy!