Billy is a ladies' man; Billy dances fine
(Always was a bear-cat at the game);
Billy pulls the social stuff all along the line—
But he knows this business, just the same.
He can march; he can drill
As hard as any rook;
And he knows his manual
Without his little book.
Maybe he was soft at first—ev'rybody's that;
Golfing was his hardest labor then;
Now he's in the Service (where you don't grow fat),
Digging, drilling, like us other men.
He can eat, he can sleep
Like any healthy brute—
And the Captain says that Billy-boy
Is learning how to shoot!
When he joined the Training Camp, Billy says, "No doubt,
I will draw some clerical position;"
But he's shown he can command; so—the news is out—
He will get a regular commission!
He can talk; he can dance
(He is still the ladies' pet)
But the way he barks his orders out
Gets action, you c'n bet!
COOKIE JIM
The capting says, says he to us:
"Your duty is to do your best;
We can't ALL lead in this here muss,
So mind your job! That is the test
O' soldierin',
O' soldierin'—
To mind your job, while soldierin'!"
When Jimmy joined the colors first, he knowed that soon he'd be
A non-com. officer,—oh, sure, he had that idee firm;
But Jimmy got another think, fer quite eventually
They had him workin' like a Turk, th' pore, astonished worm.
The rest of us, we gotta eat, and Jimmy—he can cook!
(He makes a stew that tastes as good as mother used to make.)
An' when he starts to flappin' cakes, why, every hungry rook
Is droolin' at the mouth for them, a-waitin' fer his take.