Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 June 1918 — RAILROADING IN FRANCE—A CENSORED POEM. [ARTICLE]

RAILROADING IN FRANCE—A CENSORED POEM.

(Indianapolis News) In. a letter to a friends here Major Will H. Brown, quartermaster's corps, now in France, tells an interesting story' of war railroading in France. An extract from the letter follows: ‘Yesterday, while in conference with several American officers of the engineering department relative to some changes to be made in the handling of supplies at a seaport, we fell to talking of how different the American methods of trasportation were front those of,. the French. "And while we talked the small French freight ears were being slowly handled by the Ftench trainmen, who were switching cars, making couplings, etc., carrying out their movements through signals made with small whistles, which 'all French trainmen carry in their mouths for the purpose. The conditions were so amusing to the Americans that one of the engineers commented on it. A German prisoner looked up and smiled, lie was laying track and. naturally, I asked him why he smiled. “ ’I was just thinking how differently we railroaded in the States,’ he replied. “It developed that for ten years lie Jiad worked on railroads in the United States. He was in Germany on a visit to his people when the war brdke out and w*s compelled to remain and fight. He soon was taken prisoner and said he just contented himself now with recalling how differently lie did things when he lived in the States.’’ Major Brown enclosed with his letter a bit of humorous verse that is going the rounds of the American camps. It is entitled “Mrs. Malone and the Censor*” TSie name of the author is not given, but the poem is as follows: When Mrs. Malone got a letter from Pat, She started to read it aloud in her flat. “Dear Mary,” it started, “I can’t tell you much, I’ni somewhere in France, and I’m fightin’ the Dutch. I’m chokin’ wid news thot I'd like to relate, But it’s little a soldier's permitted t’ state. Do > r e mind Red McPhee —well, he fell in a ditch An’ busted an arr’m, but I can’t tell ye which.

“An’ Paddy O’Hara was caught in a flame An’ rescued by —— T ," faith I can’t tell ye his name. Last night I woke up wid a terrible pain, I thought for a while It would drure me insane. Oh, the suff’rin’ I bad was most dreadful to bear! I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t tell ye where. The doctor be gave me a pill, but, I find It's contrary t’ rules t’ disclose here the kind. “I’ve been t’ the dintist an’ had a tooth out, I'm sorry t’ leave ye so shrouded In doubt, But the best I can say is that one tooth is gone. The censor won’t let me inform ye which one. I met a young fellow who knows ye right well, And ye know him, too, but his name I can’t tell. He’s Irish, red-headed, an’ there wid the blarney. His folks once knew your folks back home in Killarney.” “By gorry,” said Mrs. Malone in her flat, “It’s hard to make sinse out av writin’ like that. But I’ll give him as good as he sends, so I will.” So she went right to work with her ink well and quill. And she wrote: “I suppose you’re dead eager for news, You know when ye left we were « buyin’ the shoes; Well, the baby has come, an’ we’re both doin’ well, It’s a , Oh, but that’s something they won’t let me tell!”

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