The Bee's Bayonet (a Little Honey and a Little Sting)

Your welcome, O Wheatless day.

When the house is afrost
Without fuel: its cost
Is more than we're able to pay:
With our hearts all aglow
We can thaw ice or snow
Making light of a Heatless day.

When there's discord with wife
There's a shadow on life
That once was so sunny and gay;
But billing and cooing
Subordinate stewing
At the end of a Sweetless day!

When will beefsteak and ham
Not be sold by the gram?
How long will these high prices stay?
When the bad Profiteers
Show contrition and tears
At the dawn of a Cheatless day.

When our Soldiers in France
Do their Indian dance
And scalp all the Huns in the fray,
The Kaiser will holler,
With rope for a collar,
At the end of his Ruthless day!

A PROTEST

While now 'tis meet to eat fish, eggs and maize,
Vice meat and wheat whene'er we dine or sup,
So be it! but this protest I would raise—
In spite of warnings—veal keeps bobbing up!

A PRAYER

O Sun and Skies, that Hoover o'er our Fields
Where Grains implanted lie, and Silos stand,—
Pour out thy Warmth and Rains till Hunger yields
Thruout the World to our blest Fodderland!

SINCE THE LITTLE ONE CAME

I seem to have taken a new lease on life
Since the little one came;
I've lost the old grouch, and I say to my wife,
Do you think I'm to blame
Because I have changed in my feelings towards you
Since the Little One came?
The furnace, 'tis true, gave me something to do,
But I think it a shame
That some tiny tie like the Little One here
(How is Snooks for a name?)
Was not sooner left on our doorstep, my dear!

The Store takes my time, but a very small part,—
It's all over at four!
I've cut Clancy's out and have made a new start;
All my cronies are sore!
But what do I care? I have mended my ways,
So I rush from the Store
And hasten back home where the Little One plays
On the ruggèd hall floor,
And pick him up quick (O, how pretty he looks!)
Without shutting the door;
So anxious I am to caress little Snooks.

The chafing-dish chafes and the Joy-car is sore;
We have given them up!
The Two-step and Bridge are tabooed evermore;
There is Joy in our Cup!
We've cut out the movies and dining about
For our own modest sup;
And billiards and golfing, I've cut them both out!
As I did to the Hup.
With playthings and drum (and a ruppy, tup, tup!)
Loaded up like a Krupp,
I beat it to Snooky,—our English Bull Pup.

RUN ALONG, LITTLE GIRL!

Run along, Little Girl! for it's bed-time now:
Your Dollies are sleepy and poor old Bow-wow
Is weary and lonesome, curled up in a heap—
'Twould take little rocking to put him to sleep!
Your Teddy Bear's growling: or is it a snore?
Perhaps he objects to his bed on the floor?
So pick up your treasures and when prayers are said—

Run along, Little Girl, and climb in to bed!
Run along, Little Girl! The Sandman is here;
You've crowded too much into one day, I fear!
Poor, little, tired Girlie, you've worked at your play
Till the bloom of your cheeks has faded away.
To-morrow, again, you can sit by the fire
And dress all your Dollies in gala attire.
Say, Good Night! to your thimble, needle and seams;