During War We Imprison The

Who Would Prefer Peace To The Glory Of Hunger And Thirst, Of Wading Through Mud, And Dying In The Service Of One's Country?

To Seek Out In A World Full Of Joy The One Thing That Is Certain To Give You Pain, And Hug It To Your Bosom With All Your Strength; That's The Greatest Human Happiness.

In War-time A Man Is Called A Hero. It Doesn't Make Him Any Braver, And He Runs For His Life. But At Least It's A Hero Who Is Running Away.

Their Own Kind Of Logic Which Cries For Miracles And, On Occasion.

Falsehood Is The Jockey Of Misfortune.