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Title: The Slacker
Author: W. E. Christian [
More Titles by Christian]
Why don't he volunteer to serve
In Uncle Sammy's grand reserve?
He knows quite well his country's call;
Has no regard for this, at all.
He never thinks to do his part,
Because he has a Slacker's heart.
He walks along the street quite spry--
To feign indifference he must try,
When suddenly he takes affright,
It's just a picture (what a sight)
Of Uncle Sam with pointing finger.
Take it from me! He doesn't linger.
"Why don't you do it? do it quick!"
The Slacker's skull is very thick.
It never penetrates the gray,
What Uncle Sammy, has to say.
"I want you NOW!" Oh, what a Mutt.
The words fall on a brainless nut.
He lied on registration day--
Conscription's law he'll not obey.
He seeks the nuptial vows to take,
Or any other useless fake.
Whatever else, he'll never fight.
He has the Slacker's ear-marks right.
Oh, what a useless, shameless pest,
A blot on human kind at best.
His feelings are for SELF alone.
He would not give a dog the bone.
Behold his attitude--his pose.
The Slacker's ring is in his nose.
For country's call--for country's sake--
For Liberty he will not stake
His bit, nor will he ever be
But half a man. Not he--not he.
His formula contains no sand--
It's plain, he is the Slacker "Brand."
A sneak--a snake--a cur--a blasted
Dirty rotten scourge, dodgasted
Coward, thief, and all the rest--
Can't spell the name that suits the best.
There's just one place for such as he--
Not on the earth--eternity.
[The end]
W. E. Christian's poem: Slacker
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