But some nights we gets an order for a shipment on the fly,
Then we plug right through till mornin’, in the Service of Supply.
We ain’t got no dugout movies, nor a Charlie Chaplin laugh;
We ain’t got no handsome colonel with his neat and nifty staff,
Nor a brave and fearless captain with a flashing sword and gun
To yell, “Now up and at ’em, boys! We’ve got ’em on the run!”
We ain’t soaring round in biplanes, punching holes in Boche balloons,
Nor corralling frightened Fritzies by battalions and platoons,
But when they yell, “Rush order!” then we get around right spry,
For the boys are up there waitin’—on the Service of Supply.