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The Immune

From the Evening Public Ledger, July 19, 1913. By Grantland Rice.

They saw him charge from trench to trench,
Through pools of gore and deadly stench.

They heard him plunge on with a jeer
When shrapnel took away an ear.

And when the famous Forty-twos
Began to drop, with lighted fuse,

They saw him in his careless pride
Rise up and kick them to one side.

And in some wild charge on the line,
Where chills assail the human spine,

They saw him face a bayonet
And yawning, light a cigarette.

Where deadly mortars scattered gore
He gave three cheers—and called for more.

The captains called in wonderment,
“Who can this hero be?”

“I used to umpire,” he replied—
“This stuff is pie for me.”

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