| My name is private Johnson, I’m from AEF
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| The 369th Infantry Regiment. |
| From Harlem to France, from ghetto to trench
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| And honestly, here’s not much difference
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| May 15th, an enemy patrol around twenty huns
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| Me and a box of grenades, I threw it all then took up my rifle, c’mon
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| 191 days under fire, never retire
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| Men of Bronze go forward or die
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| Hold one’s ground that’s why they call us Hellfighters
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| God knows I give as good as I got
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| The fucking Labelle had a magazine clip of just three rounds and I fired it all
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| There was no time for reloading
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| I swung my rifle and brought it down with a thrown blow upon the enemy’s head
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| He went down crying and close-in fighting began
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| I stabbed one Jerry in the stomach, felled a lieutenant and took a pistol shot
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| in my arm before driving his knife between the ribs of a soldier who had
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| climbed on my back
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| I killed four boches and wounded maybe ten or maybe five more can’t count it
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| well
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| The only weapon left is my bolo knife
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| So I climbed up from the ground and charged, hacking away at the foes
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| There wasn’t anything so fine about it
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| Just fought for my life
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| A rabbit would have done that |