This book is dedicated to the Fathers and Mothers of the Boys who went and those who prepared to go.

"One of the boys who went"

Say, Mate, don't you figure it's great
  To think, when the war is all over,
And we're thro' with the mud—­
And the spilling of blood,
  And we're shipped back again to old Dover;
When they've paid us our tin
And we've blown the lot in,
  And our very last penny is spent,
We'll still have a thought, if that's all we've got: 
  Well, I'm one of the boys who went.

Perhaps, later on, when the wild days are gone
  And you're settling down for life—­
You've a girl in your eye, you'll ask bye and bye
  To share up with you as your wife—­
Then, when a few years have flown
And you've got "chicks" of your own
  And you're happy, and snug, and content,
Man, it will make your heart glad
When they boast of their Dad—­
  My Dad—­He was one of the boys who went.

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