Jessie Pope: "The Call" and "War Girls"
The Call
Who's for the trench ?
Are you, my laddie?
Who'll follow French ?
Will you, my laddie?
Who's fretting to begin,
Who's going out to win?
And who wants to save his skin ?
Do you, my laddie?
Who's for the khaki suit ?
Are you, my laddie?
Who longs to charge and shoot ?
Do you, my laddie?
Who's keen on getting fit,
Who means to show his grit,
And who'd rather wait a bit ?
Would you, my laddie?
Who'll earn the Empire's thanks ?
Will you, my laddie?
Who'll swell the victor's ranks ?
Will you, my laddie?
When that procession comes,
Banners and rolling drums ?
Who'll stand and bite his thumbs ?
Will you, my laddie?
War Girls
There's the girl who clips your ticket for the train,
And the girl who speeds the lift from floor to floor,
There's the girl who does a milk-round in the rain,
And the girl who calls for orders at your door.
Strong, sensible, and fit,
They're out to show their grit,
And tackle jobs with energy and knack.
No longer caged and penned up,
They're going to keep their end up
Till the khaki boys come marching back.
There's the motor girl who drives a heavy van,
There's the butcher girl who brings your joint of meat,
There's the girl who cries 'All fares, please!' like a man,
And the girl who whistles taxis up the street.
Beneath each uniform
Beats a heart that's soft and warm,
Though of canny mother-wit they show no lack;
But a solemn statement this is,
They've no time for love and kisses
Till the khaki soldier boys come marching home.
Jessie Pope 1916