| Ambling madly all over the town
|
| The call to arms you liken to a whisper,
|
| I liken to a radio.
|
| You were a brickbat, a bowery tuff, so rough
|
| They culled you from a cartoon
|
| Pulled out of your pantaloons.
|
| But you,
|
| My brother in arms,
|
| I’d rather I’d lose my limbs
|
| Than let you come to harm.
|
| But you,
|
| My bombazine doll,
|
| The bullets may singe your skin
|
| And the mortars may fall.
|
| But I,
|
| I never felt so much life
|
| Than tonight
|
| Huddled in the trenches,
|
| Gazing on the battle field,
|
| Our rifles blaze away;
|
| We blaze away.
|
| Corporal Bradley of regiment five
|
| In proud array standing by the bathing
|
| Soldiers and the stevedores.
|
| We laid on the mattress and tumbled to sleep
|
| Our eyes aligned, swaddled in our civies
|
| Cradled in our dungarees.
|
| But you,
|
| My brother in arms,
|
| I’d rather I’d lose my limbs
|
| Than let you come to harm.
|
| But you,
|
| My bombazine doll,
|
| The bullets may singe your skin
|
| And the mortars may fall.
|
| But I,
|
| I never felt so much life
|
| Than tonight
|
| Huddled in the trenches,
|
| Gazing on the battle field
|
| Our rifles blaze away;
|
| We blaze away.
|
| We blaze away.
|
| We blaze away. |