Write Verse, Not Poetry. The Public Wants

Then You've A Hunch What The Music Meant . . . Hunger And Night And The Stars.

It's Easy To Fight When Everything's Right And You're Mad With The Thrill And The Glory; It's Easy To Cheer When Victory's Near, And Wallow In Fields That Are Gory. It's A Different Song When Everything's Wrong, When You're Feeling Infernally Mortal; When It's Ten Against One, And Hope There Is None, Buck Up, Little Soldier, And Chortle!

Just Draw On Your Grit; It's So Easy To Quit - It's The Keeping Your Chin Up That's Hard.

Old Year! Upon The Stage Of Time You Stand To Bow Your Last Adieu; A Moment, And The Prompter's Chime Will Ring The Curtain Down On You.

Even Goats May Have Starlight In Their Eyes.