John Bullikins, my jo, John, ye known each other long.
T've sometimes thought you right, John, whether friend or foe, T'vo nursed a high regard for you, John Bullikins, my jo.
John Bullikins, my jo, John, When all is said and done, A hella trend than you, Jobo, Is not beneath th You've. planted noble reims, Jeho, Where men may freely grow I wouldn't lose you for the world, John Ballikins, my jo.
John Bullikins, my jo, John, What bunglers we have been For I'm a bungler, too, John, Which makes us closer kin.
We'll somehow blunder through, John Then bombly we will go To school together, hand-in-hand, John Bullikins, my jo, Next comes a leading article, 0 few quotations from which suffice to show the warmth of feeling Bog und is of Brit Fifty or sixty mil inhabitants of this country are open to by the 'Fatherland' they must to be "practically Englishmen"
back bone of the United States is made of Precisely the That is why in have seen things as we have. Tt has not been that the British propaganda has captured us Hold on John Bull, hold on. There are those across the seas who care for you; who hold with you now in day light and in dark 0 far as they may. and will gladly hold with you in face of all comers when Fate permit it. Hold on John Bull!
The spirit of the last paragraph is further illustrated in a nobly conceived and beautifully drawn cartoon of the Canadian shouldering his rifle and going off to battle, while Uncle 8am, gazing after him, reaches out his hand instinctively for his own rifle. Tt is entitled "The Call of the Blood."
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.