To put the pay in patriot
Is the order of the day.
And some delight to sing of fight
For royalties that pay.
The louder that the eagle screams
The more the dollars shout,
And, if you please, atrocities
Like this are handed out:—
(Chorus)
I love you, dear America,
I love the starry flag,
We're proud to fight for you-oo-oo;
We never boast or brag.
We always will remember you,
We always will be true;
Maryland, my Maryland! hurrah, boys, hurrah!
As we go marching on to victory.
II
That some are actuated
By intentions of the best,
Is surely clear, and so we fear
To class them with the rest.
And yet conceive some long-haired chap,
Or sentimental miss,
Who takes the time to fit a rhyme
To music, say, like this:—
(Chorus)
I love you, yes, I love you,
And when I'm across the sea,
I'll take your picture to the front,
'Twill always be with me.
I shall not mind the bullets
When I am far away,
You'll be a soldier's sweetheart,
My girl in U. S. A.
II
To make the war more horrible
Some chap will surely try
To set to rag the starry flag,
And dance the battle cry.
We only hope we may be spared;
It did not fail to come,
A dashing trot of shell and shot,
Of bugle call and drum.
(Chorus)
That khaki glide! O! that army slide,
It seems to say:
"March away, march away!"
I feel so queer each time I hear
The music of that military band.
It's just too grand!
Fills me full of joy and pride,
See them marching side by side,
That's just the good old khaki glide!
