Verse:
Oh, they put me in the army and they handed me a pack,
They took away my nice new clothes and dolled me up in kack;
They marched me twenty miles a day to fit me for the war,
I didn't mind the first nine-teen but the last one made me sore:

CHORUS:
Oh, it's not the pack that you carry on your back,
Nor the Springfield on your shoulder,___
Nor the five inch crust of Khaki colored dust
That makes you feel your limbs are growing older,
And it's not the hike on the hard turnpike,
That wipes a - way  your smile,
Nor  the socks of sister's that raise the blooming blisters, 
It's  the   last               long           mile.

[Repeat]

Verse:
Some day they'll send us over and they'll put us in a trench,
Takin' pot shots at the Firt-zes with the Tom-mies and the French,
And some day we'll be marching through a town across the Rhine,
And then you bet we'll all forget these mournful words of mine:

REPEAT THE CHORUS

    Circa 1917