Oh The Wife She Tried To Tell Me That 'twas Nothing But The Thrumming

Of A Woodpecker A-rapping On The Hollow Of A Tree;

And She Thought That I Was Fooling When I Said It Was The Drumming

Of The Mustering Of Legions And 'twas Calling Unto Me;

'Twas Calling Me To Pull My Freight And Hop Across The Sea.



And A-mending Of My Fish-nets Sure I Started Up In Wonder,

For I Heard A Savage Roaring And 'twas Coming From Afar;

Oh The Wife She Tried To Tell Me That 'twas Only Summer Thunder,

And She Laughed A Bit Sarcastic When I Told Her It Was War:

'Twas The Chariots Of Battle Where The Mighty Armies Are.



Then Down The Lake Came Half-breed Tom With Russet Sail A-flying

And The Word He Said Was "War" Again, So What Was I To Do ?

Oh The Dogs They Took To Howling And The Missis Took To Crying,

As I Flung My Silver Foxes In The Little Birch Canoe;

Yes, The Old Girl Stood A-bubbling Till An Island Hid The View.



Says The Factor, "Mike, You're Crazy! They Have Soldier Men A-plenty.

You're As Grizzled As A Badger And You're Sixty Year Or So."

"But I Haven't Missed A Scrap," Says I, "Since I Was One And Twenty.

And Shall I Miss The Biggest ? You Can Bet Your Whiskers ? No!"

So I Sold My Furs And Started ... And That's Eighteen Months Ago.



For I Joined The Foreign Legion And They Put Me For A Starter

In The Trenches Of The Argonne With The Boche A Step Away;

And The Partner On My Right Hand Was An Apache From Montmartre;

And On My Left There Was A Millionaire From Pittsburgh, U.S.A.

(Poor Fellow! They Collected Him In Bits The Other Day.)



Well I'm Sprier Than A Chipmunk, Save A Touch Of The Lumbago,

And They Calls Me Old Methoosalah, And Blagues Me All The Day.

I'm Their Exhibition Sniper And They Work Me Like A Dago,

And Laugh To See Me Plug A Boche A Half A Mile Away.

Oh I Hold The Highest Record In The Regiment, They Say.



And At Night They Gather Round Me, And I Tell Them Of My Roam