He was playing in the garden when we called him in for tea,
But he didn't seem to hear us, so I went out there to see
What the little rogue was up to, and I stooped and asked him why,
When he heard his mother calling, he had made her no reply.
'I am playing war,' he told me, 'and I'm up against defeat,
And until I stop the Germans I can't take the time to eat.'
'Isn't supper so important that you'll quit your round of play?
Don't you want to eat the shortcake mother made for you to-day?'
Then I asked him, but he answered as he shook his little head:
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem