| The orders came, the midnight rain
|
| Was driving down the window pane
|
| They rose like cattle, mess-kit rattle
|
| Showed them green and new to battle
|
| Out on the road, the mud knee-high
|
| The tortured trucks were slithering by
|
| Toward the ruptured, shattered sky
|
| They strove. |
| It hardly mattered why
|
| We find our hero in the mud
|
| We guess the fever in his blood
|
| We try, as he, to laugh at this
|
| The Iron Man whom bullets
|
| He’s right, the song has just begun
|
| We’d never kill a man so young
|
| He’s right, the song has just begun
|
| We’d never kill a man so young
|
| The sergeant, how they loathed his guts
|
| He led them down the waggon ruts
|
| One truck is stalled, the drivers curse
|
| It’s either ambulance or hearse
|
| The air grows foul, the heavy stench
|
| Is seeping from the ancient trench
|
| He takes his place and laughs at this
|
| The Iron Man whom bullets miss
|
| He’s right, no matter how they try
|
| The song’s too young for him to die
|
| He’s right, no matter how they try
|
| The song’s too young for him to die
|
| The orders came, the midnight rain
|
| Was driving down the window pane
|
| They rose like cattle, mess-kit rattle
|
| Showed them green and new to battle
|
| Winter came early to the house on the hill, frost, wind and snow
|
| The builders looked at its unfinished frame, then turned to go
|
| A small foundation, a pile of sand, a rusty hammer in a cold, cold hand
|
| It wasn’t a big house that they planned, but winter came early and winter came
|
| hard
|
| Winter was death to the house on the hill, frost, wind and snow
|
| Warped its timbers and cracked the foundations, then turned to go
|
| The sketch was crumpled in a cold, cold hand. |
| The hammer buried in the pile of
|
| sand
|
| The builders' thoughts were of virgin land when winter came early and winter
|
| came hard
|
| Spring was puzzled by the house on the hill, last patch of snow
|
| Gave it flowers and climbing vines, then turned to go
|
| Small boys played on the pile of sand, plastic weapons in their eager hands
|
| It wasn’t a big house that they planned, but winter came early and winter came
|
| hard
|
| The young lieutenant, new to war
|
| Is sick upon the trench’s floor
|
| The sergeant, how they cursed his head
|
| Is suddenly quite cold and dead
|
| The deafening explosions cease
|
| The calm a cruel burlesque of peace
|
| The whistle blows, the charge is made
|
| The Iron Man is unafraid
|
| He’s right, he’s young and brave and strong
|
| Just the kind to fill a song
|
| He’s right, he’s young and brave and strong
|
| Just the kind to fill a song
|
| The orders came, the midnight rain
|
| Was driving down the window pane
|
| They rose like cattle, mess-kit rattle
|
| Showed them green and new to battle
|
| Frost on the blankets of the strong boys' room
|
| Heat for the sissies, for the prep-school pansies
|
| Ice cold showers for the cool platoon
|
| Once a month a card to mamma
|
| Wipe that smile off and shine your brass
|
| Grab your ankles and I’ll give you twenty
|
| Drop that rifle and I’ll have your ass
|
| Once a month a card to mamma
|
| Play me the Taps, the quadrangle’s sleeping
|
| Here in his rack my roommate is weeping
|
| Someone is weeping. |
| I’ll be all right
|
| Goodnight. |
| Goodnight
|
| Town girls love it in the picture shows
|
| Save the dances for the home-town ladies
|
| Save five dollars for the one who knows
|
| Once a month a card to mamma
|
| Grab your ankles for the old cadets
|
| Drop your trousers and you’ll get what’s coming
|
| Is there more to this than you’re quite sure of?
|
| Put it in a card to mamma
|
| Play me the Taps, the quadrangle’s sleeping
|
| Here in his rack my roommate is weeping
|
| Someone is weeping. |
| I’ll be all right
|
| Goodnight, goodnight!
|
| Play me the Taps, the quadrangle’s sleeping
|
| The whistle blows. |
| The charge is made
|
| The Iron Man is unafraid
|
| The young lieutenant screams out loud
|
| The bullets hum like a startled crowd
|
| The young lieutenant screams and falls
|
| The Iron Man runs up the walls
|
| And blows the enemy a kiss
|
| The Iron Man whom bullets miss
|
| He’s right, the man whom bullets miss
|
| Is meant for something more than this
|
| He’s right, the man whom bullets miss
|
| Is meant for something more than this
|
| The orders came, the midnight rain
|
| Was driving down the window pane
|
| They rose like cattle, mess-kit rattle |
| Showed them green and new to battle
|
| Angie, from where I stand
|
| The water breaks on the spit of sand
|
| How does it survive?
|
| Angie, for all I know
|
| The sand is tired and ready to go
|
| It’s less than alive
|
| But you, so ready to leave. |
| The first trembling leaf to break loose in the Fall
|
| Angie, so ready to fly. |
| Is there time to ask why? |
| Is there no time at all?
|
| Or is there nothing hidden I can blame?
|
| Angie, If Angie’s your name!
|
| Angie, from where I stand
|
| Your smile is so discretely planned
|
| I’m not sure it’s there
|
| Angie, for all I know
|
| You’ll notice me, you’ll turn and go
|
| You won’t even care
|
| That’s you, so ready to leave. |
| The first trembling leaf to break loose in the
|
| Fall
|
| Angie, so ready to fly. |
| Is there time to ask why? |
| Is there no time at all?
|
| Or is there nothing hidden I can blame?
|
| Angie, If Angie’s your name!
|
| Angie, I was getting along
|
| Nothing quite right, but nothing too wrong
|
| I didn’t know you existed
|
| I ran my life like a safe machine
|
| Lost myself in a safe routine
|
| But now it’s all twisted
|
| With my hand on the knife
|
| For the rest of my life
|
| Angie, from where I stand
|
| You rise and wave an ungloved hand
|
| You smile in the sun
|
| Angie, you smile for him
|
| He calls to you. |
| The light is dim
|
| You break into a run
|
| And you’re gone. |
| So ready to leave. |
| The first trembling leaf to break loose in
|
| the Fall
|
| Angie, so ready to fly. |
| Is there time to ask why? |
| Is there no time at all?
|
| Or is there nothing hidden I can blame?
|
| Angie, If Angie’s your name!
|
| The battered fort is ours again
|
| It only cost ten-thousand men
|
| And when a young lieutenant dies
|
| Some survivor has to rise
|
| So like a humble prayer of thanks
|
| The Iron Man goes up the ranks
|
| The man whom bullets miss goes far
|
| He wins a kiss and wears a star
|
| And he’s right — a man who lives through that
|
| Deserves a star upon his hat
|
| He’s right — a man who lives through that
|
| Deserves a star upon his hat
|
| And now the nation cheers his name
|
| The politicians play his game
|
| He’s coaxed and shrewdly follows fate
|
| Until he’s leader of the State
|
| The peace grows dull, the pace too slow
|
| At last he finds convenient foe
|
| The Congress balks, the galleries hiss
|
| The Iron Man whom bullets miss
|
| But he’s right, the man whom bullets miss
|
| Is meant for something more than this
|
| He’s right, the Generals pat their guns
|
| And Congress turns and Congress runs
|
| He’s right, the nation shouts its thanks
|
| The young men run to join the ranks
|
| He’s right, his name is in their blood
|
| While huddling in some foreign mud
|
| The orders came, the midnight rain
|
| Was driving down the window pane
|
| They rose like cattle, mess-kit rattle
|
| Showed them green and new to battle
|
| Play me the Taps, the quadrangle’s sleeping
|
| Here in his rack my roommate is weeping
|
| Someone is weeping, I’ll be all right
|
| Goodnight, goodnight! |