Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

RETURNED FROM THE WARS by ANONYMOUS

First Line: MY PA'S A GREAT ROUGH RIDER
Last Line: IT NEVER WILL BE FILLED
Subject(s): SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR (1898);
MY pa's a great Rough Rider,
He was one of Teddy's men,
And he fought before El Caney
In the trenches and the fen.
He came home sore and wounded,
And I wish you'd see him eat;
He's got an appetite, I guess,
Is pretty hard to beat.

It's eat, and eat, and eat,
And it's sleep, and sleep, and sleep,
For ma won't let us make no noise,
And so we creep and creep.
Oh, we bade him welcome home,
And we're glad he wasn't killed —
But, gee! he's got an appetite
That never will be filled.

My pa was in the racket,
He heard the Mauser's ring,
And he says there's something awful
In the music of their ping.
He fought the fight with Teddy,
But he's glad he's home again
From the trenches and the trochas,
From the hills and from the fen.

But it's eat, eat, eat,
And it's sleep, sleep, sleep;
He's kind o' stricken hungry
With an awful sort of sweep.
But we're glad to have him home,
And we're glad he wasn't killed,
But, gee! that awful appetite,
It never will be filled.

He says he caught the fever,
And he had the ague, too,
And he kind o' got the homesicks,
And the waitin' made him blue.
But when he reached the station
And we saw him from the gate
We were the happiest family
You could find in all the state.

But it's eat, eat, eat,
And it's sleep, sleep, sleep;
His hunger is abidin'
And it's lastin' and it's deep.
For he lived so long on bacon,
And he slept so long on mud,
I guess it's kind o' filled him
Full o' hungry, sleepy blood.

My pa's come home from fighting,
Which he says was mighty hot;
And we're glad to have him home again,
And glad he wasn't shot.
My pa's a great Rough Rider,
And he helped to hold the line
When the Mauser balls were leapin'
From'most every tree and vine.

But it's eat, eat, eat,
Since he came home to stay;
And it's sleep, sleep, sleep, —
Bet he'll sleep hisself away!
But we're happy that he came.
And we're glad he wasn't killed,
But, gee! that awful appetite,
It never will be filled.



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