Tell them in Olongapo, I died as a hero should, Up to the neck, in cold, cold suds Guaranteed drawn from the wood. I'd like to leave you a gift, waiter, Just to remember me by And to show you that I'm not tight, You can have my piece of pie. And after I sink in the water, waiter, You'll do me a favor, I hope. Tell them, if I blow up bubbles It wasn't from eating soap. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POSTER They told me that the Army was a joy for evermore; They told me of the pleasures I'd have in it by the score; They told me of its comforts and the jolly life I'd lead, But by thunder they have fooled me and I'm sorrowful indeed-- I ever joined the Army. They told me of the polished boots and the buttons bright I'd wear, And of the splendid things I'd find upon the bill-of-fare; But never a word they told me in the fine recruiting shop, Of hoeing weeds upon the roads, or hauling out the slops-- When I joined the Army. They told me of the pleasant hours, away from every care, I could spend when not on duty, in town or anywhere; But a thing they never told me is the punishment they'd mete Out to a luckless rookie who went absent from retreat-- In Uncle Samuel's Army. They told me of the canteen, where good lager beer is sold, And of the fine post hospital, that cures all kinds of colds; But a hint about the guard-house they never to me gave, That skeleton they kept hidden as though buried in a grave-- Until I joined the Army. They showed me good looking chromos of good looking soldier men, With little V's upon their sleeves and hats they shone like tin; But there is one uncanny picture they never to me showed Of a soldier with a knapsack, and he hitting up the road-- In the U. S. Army. They told me of the nice soft bunk, made out of woven wire, Where I could lay my carcass, whenever my bones would tire; But a whisper of the pick and shovel was never to me told, So I'm pondering o'er my contract, and I think I was sold-- When I came into Uncle's Army. They told me of the non-coms, who knew a soldier's worth, Who made the Army jolly, a place of endless mirth; But not a word they told me of the amount of beer I'd buy, Just to keep a "stand in" with those that rank up high-- In Sammy's splendid Army. They told me of the bill-of-fare that changed with every day, And when landed in the Army for thirty years I'd stay; But not a word they told me (No wonder they were mum), About the stuff they feed us, commonly known as "Slum"-- In our conquering Army. It is hinted that experience of all others is the school, Where common sense alone is learned, by him that plays the fool; And though I hate the medicine, I must take it with a will, And keep convincing myself, it does me good-- It's time to leave the Army. ARMY FEVER