The Waiter At The Camp

The officers' friend is the waiter at camp. In the night air 'twas cold and was bitterly damp, And they asked me to dine, which I readily did, For at dining I've talents I never keep hid. Then a bright-eyed young fellow came in with the meat, And straightway the troop of us started to eat. I silently noticed that young fellow wait At each officer's side 'til he'd filled up his plate; I was startled a bit at the very first look By the size of the helping each officer took, And I thought as I sat there among them that night Of the army's effect on a man's appetite. The waiter at last brought the platter to me And modestly proper I started to be. A small piece of meat then I gracefully took; The young fellow stood there and gave me a look. 'Better get all you want,' he remarked to me then, 'I pass this way once, but I don't come again.' I turned in amazement. He nodded his head In a way that convinced me he meant what he said. I knew from his manner and smile on his lip That the rule in the army is 'no second trip.' And I thought as he left me my food to attack, Life gives us one chance, but it never comes back.