Song of the Yeomantte

by Addie Armstrong

She stood alone outside the office Brother, beau, both had gone ahead. So to the man at the desk, she said:

“I know how to work a wireless. I’ve switched the phones before; And I can drive a motorcar. Tailor any sort of dress;

Or clerking, or stenography, typing too. What better manager of supplies Than the one who handles her home? Please, there must be something I can do?”

They hemmed and hawed but in the end, the answer came back simply: “Yes.” So they swore her in, and called her: Yeoman (F)

Everywhere the evidence of her service stands In hems of trousers, or in a motorcade, In books kept with care, weapons well repaired, Or orders written out in neat and girlish hands,

Even here in France, you’ll find her serving brave. Shells falling all around, yet steady on her end: Switching lines, calm and crisp: “Number Please.” Or flashing a rapid signal over electric wave.

She wears her uniform, salutes with pride; And everywhere, in every way, She frees a man to fight today.

Originally published by W. Ransom Leccese (December 1917).