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A PARODY WITH APOLOGIES (After Wordsworth's "The World is Too Much With Us.") Assam is too much with us, night and noon. Leasing and lending we lay waste our powers; Each minute in India seems like hours - Our once black hair more grey with each monsoon. The Indian folk who think the soldiers are a boon, The jackals that are howling at all hours, The buzzards brooding on the distant towers - For this, for everything, we are out of tune. It gets too hot. Snafu, I'd rather be Back home in that dear land where I was born; Broadway and Times Square mean the world to me And Brooklyn, too (do I see smiling scorn?) To see the Lady known as Liberty, And hear our Harry blow his frantic horn. - By Pvt. JOSEPH SCOPP. |
IT WAS I watched him glide in all directions - He'll land or leave were my detections; He dove in low and buzzed my brow. I swung and thought, "I've got him now." But he's quite fast as I could see A five-fingered mark's all that happened to me. At last he did it - on my chubby wrist. A landing field was on his list. I dared not move for fear he'd go Without first seeing the three-star show. First, I'd take a careful aim Intending to kill and not just maim. Second, I'd swing a powerful right To finish one pest, at least for tonight. Eternal sleep, the third would be And he'd never bite you and none the less me. At last this heroic bout was won A righteous task so honorably done. And now that fattened insect's gone To mosquito heaven to do no more harm. - By Lt. MIRIAM WARTELL, ANC |
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