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THE SHUT-EYE SENTRY.
Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant
To the Senior Orderly Man:
You ’elp 'im all you can.
An' the best we may go wrong,
You pass the word along.”
The moon was white on the barricks,
The road was white an' wide,
An' the ten-foot ditch beside.
An' the corporal pulled an' the sergeant pushed,
An' the three they wagged along,
So I didn't see nothin' wrong.
'Twas after four in the mornin';
We 'ad to stop the fun,
With ’is belt an' stock undone;
For six o'clock parade.
There was two-an’-thirty sergeants,
There was corp'rals forty-one,
To swear to a touch o'sun.
There was me 'e'd kissed in the sentry-box
(As l'ave not told in my song), But I took my oath, which were Bible truth,
l'adn't seen nothin' wrong.
There's them that’s ’ot an' 'aughty,
There's them that's cold an’’ard,
In every kind o' way,
With Privit Thomas A.
“MARY, PITY WOMEN!”
You call yourself a man,
For all you used to swear,
You done the worst you know.
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!
Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over-
It aren't no false alarm,
The finish to your fun;