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作曲 : Traditional Song |
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Oh soldiers, I’ve concluded to make a little song, |
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And if I tell no falsehood there can be nothing wrong, |
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If any be offended at what I have to sing, |
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Then surely his own conscience applies the bitter sting. |
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Oh, how do you like the Army |
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The brass-mounted Army, |
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The high-falutin’ Army, |
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Where eagle buttons rule? |
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Whisky is a monster, and ruins great and small, |
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But in our noble Army, Headquarters gets it all; |
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They drink it when there’s danger, although it seems too hard, |
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But if a private touches it, they put him “under guard.” |
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Oh, how do you like the army, |
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The brass-mounted army, |
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The high-fallutin' army, |
| [00:49.862] |
Where eagle buttons rule? |
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The Army’s now much richer than when the war begun, |
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It furnishes three tables where once it had but one; |
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The first is richly loaded with chickens, goose, and duck, |
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The nest with pork and mutton, the third with good old buck. |
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Oh, how do you like the army, |
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The brass-mounted army, |
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The high-fallutin' army, |
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Where eagle buttons rule? |
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Our generals eat the poultry, and buy it very cheap, |
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Our colonels and our majors devour the hog and sheep; |
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The privates are contented (except when they can steal), |
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With beef and corn bread plenty to make a hearty meal. |
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Oh, how do you like the army, |
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The brass-mounted army, |
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The high-fallutin' army, |
| [01:38.808] |
Where eagle buttons rule? |
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Sometimes we git so hungry, we're bound to press a pig; |
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Then the larggest stump in Dixie we're sure to have to dig. |
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And when we fret, an officer who wears long legged boots |
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With neither judge nor jury, puts us on “double roots.” |
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Oh, how do you like the army, |
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The brass-mounted army, |
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The high-fallutin' army, |
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Where eagle buttons rule? |
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These things and many others are truely hard to me |
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But still I’ll be contented, and fight for Liberty! |
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And when the war is over, oh what a jolly time! |
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We’ll be our own commanders and sing much sweeter rhymes. |
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Oh, how do you like the army, the brass-mounted army, |
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The high-fallutin' army, where eagle buttons rule? |
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We’ll see our loving sweethearts, and sometimes kiss them, too, |
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We’ll eat the finest rations, and bid old buck adieu, |
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There’ll be no generals with orders to compel, |
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Long boots and eagle buttons, forever fare ye well! |
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And thus we’ll leave the Army, |
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The brass-mounted Army, |
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The high-falutin’ Army, |
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Where eagle buttons rule. |
