'i
I
K 0 0 T I E S
(Hie Little Things ThatiStick)
SOMETIMES CATCH 'EM SLEET:
New Come Officer: Good heavens, sergeant 1 Does it rain here all
the tine?
Dong Tine Sergeant: No, sir l It snows in winter.
ON HIE ROAD TO OLD KLUIC/AN:
(V/ith necessary apologies*)
In a smoky native cabin on the muddy Chilkat bhore
Sits a simple Siwash maiden as she sat in days of yore
'-Vhen she listened to my story 'neath the old cottonwood tree,
And I clean forgot the Amy as she sang in Chinook to me#
For her little feet were shoeless, and her arris and elbows bare
And the hoaligafri oil‘shown glossy from her mass of raven hair,
How her black eyes danced with logghter and her teeth gleaned nearly white
As she coquetti3hly ask ne: "'/a-see-e-tu-et-te, all right?"
Ship ne sonewheres west of Chilkoot, where the Chilkat Republic lies
iVhere the dog salnon from the river lays in snoky racks and dries
For I hear the "sticks" acailing and the alarm bell ringing on:
"Come ye back, ye white nan soldier, cone ye back to old JClukv/an."
Now I hate the fogs of Chilkoot and Haines* streets of stones,
And the Lynn Canal winds freezes the narrow in ny bones;
How I long for days of sunshine, long happy days and free
And my simple Siwash maiden just to say "Ee-hay" to me*
ASK ’EM:*
The INFANTRY in infantry stands for "Indeed No Fooling About Numerous
Training Reports Yearly," If you don't believe it, ask any Adjutant or his
faithful raan-Friday, the Sgt. Major.
And that will be all for this week*
—George T« Masury,
TO G.T.M* SOME MIGHT ANSWER:
As for mine, give me the pavements and a show not on a screen;
I don't like the smell of fish oil, give me whiffs of gasoline.
I prefer a pale-face beauty to a dusky chilkat queen —
Ihere is one who lives near Ballard who * s the sort o* girl I mean.
So just bring next .June and transfer to the continental "States"
And five days of transport rations, that is all I ask the Fates,
For the r7est Seattle fog horn is a tootin', callin' ne,
"Come you back, you ol* ldunge lizard, to the place you long to be."