I hiked o’er the hog trails of Jolo,
    In the blistering rays of the suns,
  As the wild savage wielding his bolo,
    Fell beneath the onslaught of our guns.

  With a cartridge belt, rifle and knapsack,
    I tramped through the wooded ravine,
  On a ration of hard tack and bacon,
    And a swig from a rusty canteen.

  In Mindanao island so dreary,
    From Malabang to Hawaiian hill,
  Ever faithful though footsore and weary,
    I shouldered my Krag for the drill.

  On the outpost when night darkened o’er us
    A lone vigil I kept through the rain,
  And watched for the bloodthirsty Moros,
    That prowled through the desolate cayan.

  I have seen the half clad Filipino,
    In his nipa thatched shack in Luzon,
  Dispensing the tuba and bino,
    Amidst our gay laughter and song.

  At eve the brown-hued senoritas,
    Strolled leisurely over the green,
  In hobbles and gaudy camisas,
    Their more loving than handsome queens,

  They may say the East is a’calling,
    The picturesque isles of the sea,
  But with all their wild splendor enthralling,
    They have no fascination for me.

TELL YOUR TROUBLES TO THE CORPORAL OF THE GUARD

  If number one you are walking,
  And to a comrade talking,
  While around the country gawking,
  Keeping neither watch nor ward,
  And an officer unsaluted,
  Swears at you with voice polluted,
    Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

  If you are at the bridge of Spain,
  And a foreign lady vain—­
  While a native with a rein
  Jerks the skinny pony hard,
  When to her aid you’ll turn,
    Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

  If on the Escolta posted,
  And the sun your back has roasted,
  And rebel chieftain boasted
  As he handed you his card—­
  That he soon would clean you out
  And put your Dewey’s fleet to rout,
    Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

  If to the canteen you are sent,
  And your frame with thirst is rent,
  And your spirits drooped and bent,
  And the soldiers and the sailors bottle-crazed—­
  All are drinking fizzes cool,
  Do not rave and act the fool,
    Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

  If you should a bottle get,
  No matter on which beat,
  Or a morsel sweet to eat,
  In the dreary times so hard;
  You will find a friend to share it—­
    Call promptly for the Corporal of the Guard.

GENERAL ORDERS OF THE KITCHEN POLICE

My General Orders are: 

1.  To take charge of these spuds and all gravy in view.

2.  Dish slum in a military manner; keeping on the alert and observing all meat balls that go within sight or hearing.