"Roll the bones!" they
would shout, completely ignoring the throngs which surged about
them. Each had his pile of bills and silver laid out on the
pavement, and his bottle of "white lightnin';" now and then one
would take a swig, and now and then one would start singing:
All we do is sign the pay-roll--
And we don't get a goddam cent.
You would go a little farther, and find a couple of automobiles
trying to get past, and a merry crowd amusing itself throwing large
waste cans in front of them. Some one would shout: "Who won the
war?" And the answer would come booming: "The goddam slackers;" or
maybe it would be, "The goddam officers." The crowd would move along,
starting to chant the favorite refrain:
You're in the army now,
You're not behind the plow--;
You son-of-a---,
You'll never get rich--
You're in the army now!
And from farther down the street would come a chorus from another
crowd of marchers:
I got a girl in Baltimore,
The street-car runs right by her door.
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