Two little children toiled along
A steep and lonely mountain road,
They heeded not the bitter cold
But proudly bore their precious load.
I asked them where they might be bound
And what their heavy load might be.
They said, "We're going to the town
To send our load across the sea.
"For, far away on England's shore,
Our own blood kin still live, you know;
They fight to stay the tyrant's hand
That threatens freedom to o'erthrow.
"And many little homeless ones
Are cold and hungry there today,
'Tis them we seek to feed and clothe
And every night for them we pray.
"Some of them reach our own dear land,
While others perish in the sea;
And we must help and comfort them
Until their land from war is free."
Oh, may we like these children face
The curse of hate and war's alarm
With faith and courage in our hearts
And Britain's Bundles 'neath our arms.
--Jilson Setters