TRENCH MUD
We have heard of Texas gumboAnd the mud in the Philippines,Where, if we had legs like Jumbo,The mud would cover our jeans.But never did we get a chanceTo feel real mud till we hit France.Our shoes are deep in it,We often sleep in it,We almost weep in it—It’s everywhere;We have to fight in it,And vent our spite in it,We look a sight in it,But we don’t care!The mud that lies in No Man’s LandIs as thick on the other side,And where the Germans make their standIs where we’ll make them slide,For our hob-nailed shoes will force a way,And we’ll knock them cold—for the U.S.A.Though we must eat in it,Wash our feet in it,Try to look neat in it,This mud and slime;Though we get sore in it,Grumble and roar in it,We’ll win the war in itIn our good time!John J. Curtin, Sgt., Inf.
We have heard of Texas gumboAnd the mud in the Philippines,Where, if we had legs like Jumbo,The mud would cover our jeans.But never did we get a chanceTo feel real mud till we hit France.Our shoes are deep in it,We often sleep in it,We almost weep in it—It’s everywhere;We have to fight in it,And vent our spite in it,We look a sight in it,But we don’t care!The mud that lies in No Man’s LandIs as thick on the other side,And where the Germans make their standIs where we’ll make them slide,For our hob-nailed shoes will force a way,And we’ll knock them cold—for the U.S.A.Though we must eat in it,Wash our feet in it,Try to look neat in it,This mud and slime;Though we get sore in it,Grumble and roar in it,We’ll win the war in itIn our good time!John J. Curtin, Sgt., Inf.
We have heard of Texas gumboAnd the mud in the Philippines,Where, if we had legs like Jumbo,The mud would cover our jeans.But never did we get a chanceTo feel real mud till we hit France.
We have heard of Texas gumbo
And the mud in the Philippines,
Where, if we had legs like Jumbo,
The mud would cover our jeans.
But never did we get a chance
To feel real mud till we hit France.
Our shoes are deep in it,We often sleep in it,We almost weep in it—It’s everywhere;We have to fight in it,And vent our spite in it,We look a sight in it,But we don’t care!
Our shoes are deep in it,
We often sleep in it,
We almost weep in it—
It’s everywhere;
We have to fight in it,
And vent our spite in it,
We look a sight in it,
But we don’t care!
The mud that lies in No Man’s LandIs as thick on the other side,And where the Germans make their standIs where we’ll make them slide,For our hob-nailed shoes will force a way,And we’ll knock them cold—for the U.S.A.
The mud that lies in No Man’s Land
Is as thick on the other side,
And where the Germans make their stand
Is where we’ll make them slide,
For our hob-nailed shoes will force a way,
And we’ll knock them cold—for the U.S.A.
Though we must eat in it,Wash our feet in it,Try to look neat in it,This mud and slime;Though we get sore in it,Grumble and roar in it,We’ll win the war in itIn our good time!John J. Curtin, Sgt., Inf.
Though we must eat in it,
Wash our feet in it,
Try to look neat in it,
This mud and slime;
Though we get sore in it,
Grumble and roar in it,
We’ll win the war in it
In our good time!
John J. Curtin, Sgt., Inf.