English poem
To Jean Baptiste
by Abner Cosens
O Jean Baptiste! do not resist The military act, Jean; You like to fight, the cause is right, (You know this is a fact, Jean.) When tasks are hard, 'tis not, old pard. Your way to ever shirk, Jean; The saw-log jam, mills, woods and dam All tell how well you work, Jean.
It isn't fear that keeps you here, You're active, brave and strong, Jean; But in this scrap, by some mishap, We got you going wrong, Jean. In dear old France, the Huns advance With bullet, bomb and gas, Jean, It's hardly square that you're not there; (Hank Bourassa's an ass, Jean.)
That we may win, you must begin To help more in this fight, Jean, The die is cast, forget our past Intolerance and spite, Jean, The things you love may worthless prove, If you don't get your gun, Jean; Your woods, and mines, your homes and shrines, May all go to the Hun, Jean.
Our kinsmen brave, across the wave, The Kaiser have defied, Jean, British and French, in bloody trench, Are fighting side by side, Jean. Where duty leads, what matter creeds, Or what baptismal font, Jean? So let us sing--"Long live the king" And join the bonne entente, Jean.