| The P-F-C, the C-P-L, the S-G-T, the L-T
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| C-P, the O-D, the M-P makes you do catvee
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| It’s the G. I. Jive
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| Man alive
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| It starts with the bugler blowin' reveille over your bed when you arrive
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| 'Ey, Jack, that’s the G. I. Jive
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| Roodley-toot
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| Jump in your suit
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| Make a salute
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| Au re veut
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| After you wash and dress
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| More or less
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| You go get your breakfast from a beautiful little cafe they call «the Mess»
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| 'Ey, Jack, when you convalesce
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| Outta your seat
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| Into the street
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| Make with the feet
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| Au reet
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| If you’re a P-V-T, your duty
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| Is to salute to L-I-E-U-T
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| But if you brush the L-I-E-U-T
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| The M-P makes you K-P on the Q-T
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| This is the G. I. Jive
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| Man alive
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| They give you a private tank that features a little device called «fluid drive»
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| Jack, after you revive
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| Chuck all your junk
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| Back in the trunk
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| Fall on your bunk
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| Clunk
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| This is the G. I. Jive
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| Man alive
|
| They give you a private tank that features a little device called «fluid drive»
|
| Jack, if you still survive
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| Chuck all your junk
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| Back in the trunk
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| Fall on your bunk
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| Clunk
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| Soon you’re countin' jeeps
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| But before you count to five
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| Seems you’re right back diggin' that G. I. Jive |