Description
Those Who Die!
by Frank Eisenberg
The grocer's son is on Saipon;
The baker's now in Rome,
The newsboy we use to have,
Lies buried far from home.
The little laundry man is gone,
He lies there waiting, still,
For the transport that will carry
Him back home from Bougainville.
At Kasserine the plumber's boy,
Picked up a shrapnel bit,
And, in London's robot-bombing hell
Our neighbor's son was hit.
Three school boys lie in Coral Seas,
No More their trampling feet,
Will Echo through the corridors,
Though the enemy retreat.
With what adventures spirit,
Those youngsters joined the fray,
The morning of December 8th,
I'll ne'er forget the day.
At Ansie the fruit man's son
Fell from a sniping Hun,
And many kids my youngster knew
Lie dying in the sun.
The rich kid on the corner
We use to think so swell
Chalked up his fifteenth ___
And died in a fiery hell.
The grocer's a Norwegian,
The finest boy we knew,
The baker was Bohemian,
The newsboy was a Jew.
So rich and poor alike they fall,
A price they're glad to pay
To cleanse the world of tyranny,
And pave a better way.
And shall we fail those boys who die
Their sacrifice in vain?
Let's conquer greed and lust and hate,
And, make Honor rise again.
Frank Eisenberg
Universal Pictures
Minneapolis, Minnesota
August 6, 1944