By TenEyck Van Deusen
I had put my time in the Service
Each long and draggin' year.
With some of it in n heat struck land
And some of it back here.
I cursed the Service I followed
As my back was chafed by my pack
I dreamed of the day of my discharge
It came. Then I came back!
It wasn't the need o' rations
I had money and friends and a bed.
And it wasn't the Recruitin' Sergeant
I knew better than what he said,
It wasn't the fancy posters
That tells a man not to slack.
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