Her Johnny
by
Since Johnny has joined the Marine corps,
Of course he will do what he’s told,
And Johnny will be at home on the sea
The day he is eighteen years old.
Just what they expect of my baby
Ain’t clear to his maw; my, oh, my!
But Johnny’s a-wearin’ the blue–and ain’t carin’–
He’s gone! Is it wrong if I cry?
It ain’t been so long, I remember,
That Johnny, my baby, was sick
Whenever he’d get on a boat, and he’d fret
Till we’d land–which was usually quick.
But now, with his gun and his kit-bag,
He’s answered the call, bless his heart!
And he’ll square out his jaw and think of his maw
And go in to win from the start!
My Johnny’s not fightin’ for pleasure
(I know he’ll be sea-sick, pore kid!)
But he said, “If I stayed, they’d call me afraid;
I gotta sign up”–and he did.
So now I sit here, sorter dreamin’
Of the days he was mine. They are done–
I’m proud; but I wish–I could fix up a dish
Of doughnuts for Johnny, my son!