We don’t hike along the roadway in them iron derby hats
While the shrapnel punctuates the breeze and gas floats o’er the flats;
We just dodge the fallin’ cases and we slap them back on high,
For it’s just a pile o’ pilin’ in the Service of Supply.
No, we ain’t no snappy soldiers, and our daily round of drills
Includes a lot of movements minus military thrills;
But we drill them bloomin’ box cars, double timin’ on the bends,
And we slam them full of boxes till they’re bulgin’ at the ends.
We ain’t sniped no Fritzie snipers, and we ain’t wrecked no tanks,
And we don’t go dashin’ forward with the ever-thinnin’ ranks;