As promised, here's this interesting cultural artifact from this "good" little war. I wish I knew more Spanish.

A Filipino Hombre
(Words by Capt. Lyman A. Cotton, U.S. Navy, circa 1900, tune: "I am a Gay Cavaliero"; in Carl Sandburg's THE AMERICAN SONGBAG, pp. 434-435)

There once was a Filipino hombre
Who ate rice pescado y legumbre;
His trousers were wide, and his shirt hung outside,
And this, I may say, was his costumbre.

He lived in a nipa bahay
Which served as a stable and sty;
He slept on a mat with the dogs and a cat
And the rest of the family near by.

His daddy, un buen' Filipino,
Who never mixed tubig with bino,
Said, "I am no insurrecto – no got gun or bolo,"
Yet used both to kill a vecino.

His mujer once kept a tienda
Underneath a large stone hacienda;
She chewed buyo and sold for jawbones and gold
To soldades who said, "No intienda."

Of ninos he had dos or tres,
Good types of the Tagalo race;
In dry or wet weather, in the altogether,
They'd romp and they'd race and they'd chase.

Su hermana fue lavandera,
And slapped clothes in fuerte manera;
On a rock in a stream where the carabaos dream,
Which gave them a perfume lijera.

His brother, who was a cochero,
Buscare in Manila dinero;
His prices were high when a cop was near by
To help scare the poor pasajero.

He once owned a bulic manoc,
With a haughty, valorus look;
Which lost him a name, y mil pesos tambien,
So he changed to monte for luck.

When his pueblo last had a fiesta
His family tried to digest a
Mule that had died of glanders inside,
And now his familia no esta.

No esta,
Charley Noble