camp;
If off three rods the bugle sounds, back you will have to tramp,
And, if you chance to miss, why, you are a poor, gone chick,—
Fourteen bricks in your knapsack, and four hours Double
Quick.
Now, all you chaps who would enlist, don't leap before you
look,
And, if you wish to fight for the Union, go on your own hook,
For, if a soldier you become, it will be your last kick,
To the devil you will surely be drove headlong Double-Quick.