6:10 A. M.—­First call for drill
  First call for Drill reminded me—­
  I’ll try the rear rank—­“number three.”

  6:20 A. M.—­Drill
  Street Riot Drill and Company square;
  I nearly went up in the air.

  7:20 A. M.—­Recall from drill
  Recall was music to my ears;
  I hadn’t felt so tired for years.

  8:00 A. M.—­Colors
  The Guard turned out for Uncle Sam
  And handed him the “Grand Salaam.”

  8:10 A. M.—­Sick call
  One fellow went to show his corn
  For there’s a Hike to-morrow morn.

  8:20 A. M.—­First call for troop
  I shaved and washed, then cleaned the Gat,
  And had ten minutes left at that.

  8:30 A. M.—­Troop
  The Captain sized us up for fair,
  But no kick comin’ anywhere.

  8:45 A. M.—­Guard mount
  Guard Mount, my name wasn’t booked;
  How is it I was overlooked?

  Respite

  No more calls to answer now
  Til I hear them holler, “Chow”
    For this is my easy day: 
    Guess I rate it anyway.

  12:00 N—­chow—­liberty

  Chow was the regular menu,
  Spuds et cetera—­carabao. 
    I heard “Liberty” when it went
    But I didn’t have a cent.

  1:00 P. M.—­Police
  Glad I have no work today;
  I’ll turn in and hit the hay.

  Afternoon—­no calls
  Woke up promptly, half past two;
  Walked around Olongapo. 
    Came in—­played a checker game;
      Wrote a letter to my dame.

  5:00 P. M.—­Chow
  Supper surely was some class! 
  Steak and Onions—­Apple “sass.”

  6:00 P. M.——­Colors
  Six o’clock when colors went;
  Guard turned out and gave “present.”

  8:30 P. M.—­Tattoo
  Came in early, took a shower,
  Read a book for half an hour.

  9:15 P. M.—­Call to quarters
  Let down my Mosquito net—­
  Puffed a Durham Cigarette.

  Taps—­P.  M.
  Safely in my bunk I curled
  And was soon—­dead to the World.

  That uniform

  Tis strange, but yet ’tis true, we see
  Sane men who seem to think that we,
  Who wear the blue, are not the same
  As other men.  We have a name
  Scarce thought of with respect; ’tis used
  To frighten children, and abused
  By those who only wish to show
  A few of the many things they don’t know.

  We read “the soldiers came to town
  And raised particular ——­,” and so on down
  A column or more of such vile stuff;
  ’Twould make us all cry “Hold!  Enough!”
  You see, there’s scarcely anything
  To write about.  While these things sting,
  What’s that to us?  We may lose by it;
  But the public’s fed, ye gods, the diet.

  An old saw, which, perhaps, e’en you
  Have heard, and some thought true,
  Seems to have been forgotten, quite,
  Or else we do not think it right. 
  Our fathers used to think that way,
  But we are wiser (?) in our day. 
  Try to remember it, if you can,
  Tis this:  “The clothes don’t make the man.”