Page:Patriotic pieces from the Great War, Jones, 1918.djvu/159

Rh THE COMB BAND

Permission of the author

Oh we love the gay canned music in the watches of the night

And we sit about and listen to its records with delight,

And we like to hear the music of the regimental band

While the leader juggles gayly with the baton in his hand,

But the melody that's sweetest as we linger in the gloam

Is the harmony extracted from a fine-tooth comb.

Yes, we get some tissue-paper and some combs from out our kit

And we gather in the squad tent where the lantern shadows flit,

And we play a bunch of rag-time with a lot of vim and go

In a sort of jazz-band rhythm—all the latest stuff we know;

Tunes that set your shoulders swaying, while your thoughts are light as foam,

To the sound of syncopation on a fine-tooth comb.