I’ve hiked a trail where the last marks fail
And the vine-choked jungles yawn,
I’ve doubled-out on a dirty scout
Two hours before the dawn,
I’ve done my drill when the palms hung still
And the rations nearly gone.
I’ve soldier’d in Pinar del Rio--
In ’Frisco and Aparri--
I’ve lifted their lights through the tropic nights
O’er the breast of a golden sea,
But this is surely the craziest puzzle
That ever has puzzled me.
It’s this. I’m here in Cuba
Where the royal palms swing high,
And the White Man’s plantations of all o’ the Nations
Are scattered ahither and nigh
And the native galoot who _must_ revolute
Though no one can tell you just why.
And when I go mapping the mountain and vale
Or a practice-march happens my way,
Each planter I meet is lovely and sweet
And setteth them up right away,
“And won’t I come in and how’ve I been?”
And--“_How long do I think the troops stay?_”
They never besprinkled my bosom
When I soldier’d over home,
Nor clasped me in glee when I came from the sea
Where the Seal Rock breakers comb,
Or stamped on a strike and scattered them wide
Like the scud of the back-set foam.
When I saved ’em their stinking Islands
They cursed me for being rough:
(They wouldn’t dare to have soldier’d there
But they called me brutal and tough.
I had done their work and the land was theirs,
Which I reckon was nearly enough).
They never enthuse over khaki or “blues”
Anywhere else I’ve been.
They never go wild and bless the child
And say “Oh Willie come in.”
Though on my soul, I’m damned if I see
Just where is the Cardinal Sin.
_I’m only a buck o’ the rank and file_
_As stupid as I can be,_
_So this is the craziest puzzle_
_That ever has puzzled me._
(_I’m perfectly dry but I_ must _bat an eye,_
_For you think that I cannot see._)