“WHO SAID SUNNY FRANCE?”
It lies on your blankets and over your bed,
There’s mud in the cover that covers your head,
There’s mud in the coffee, the slum, and the bread—
Sunny France!
There’s mud in your eyebrows, there’s mud up your nose,
There’s mud on your leggins to add to your woes,
The mud in your boots finds its place ’twixt your toes—
Sunny France!
Oh, the grimy mud, the slimy mud, the mud that makes you swear,
The cheesy mud, the greasy mud, that filters through your hair.
You sleep in the mud, and drink it, that’s true;
There’s mud in the bacon, the rice, and the stew,
When you open an egg, you’ll find mud in it, too—
Sunny France!
There’s mud in the water, there’s mud in the tea,
There’s mud in your mess-kit as thick as can be,
It sticks to your fingers like leaves to a tree—
Sunny France!
Oh, the ruddy mud, the muddy mud, the mud that gets your goat,
The sliding mud, the gliding mud, that sprays your pants and coat!
It cakes in your mouth till you feel like an ox,
It slips down your back and it rests in your sox;
You think that you’re walking on cut glass and rocks—
Sunny France!
There’s mud in your gas mask, there’s mud in your hat,
There’s mud in your helmet, there’s mud on your gat,
Yet though mud’s all around us, we’re happy at that—
Sunny France!
Oh, the dank, dank mud, the rank, rank mud, there’s just one guy to blame;
We’ll wish him well (we will like hell!) and Kaiser Bill’s his name!
Jack Warren Carrol, Corp., F.A.