SHERMAN WAS RIGHT
You may talk about your marching
And your stiff, close-order drill;
You may cuss out recitations,
And of skirmish have your fill;
The difficult manoeuvers
Which you do most every day
May get your goat like everything,
And spoil your Plattsburg stay.
But for me it's far, far harder
Makes me feel more like a prune,
To march at strict attention
Past the Hostess House at noon.
TROOPSHIP CHANTY
The sea is green as green-pea soup
And half-way down the green-o,
A U-boat's lying snug and tight
All bellied out with dynamite,
And twenty guns between-o!
And twenty guns between-o!
So scrape yer hatchways clear of brine,
And bawl yer jolly song-o.
For if she "blows," my lads, why, then
We'll blow her back to Hell again,
With compliments along-o!
With compliments along-o!