Lookin’ ahead in the mist,
With a tin hat over your ivory
And a rifle clutched in your fist;
Waitin’ and watchin’ and wond’rin’
If the Hun’s comin’ over to-night—
Say, ain’t the things you think of
Enough to give you a fright?
Things you ain’t even thought of
For a couple o’ months or more;
Things that ’ull set you laughin’,