— Author unknown —

A Marine wrote his buddy from Guadalcanal,
said, "The Army is landing, just think of it, pal!"
A seabee replied, "Alright then, we'll
build a clubhouse for out fighting men;
they'll have entertainment and maybe a play,
recreation advisors from the WPA;
they'll have post exchanges and ice cream no end,
for life must be pleasant for our fighting men."

"One thing," said the chow-hounds, "we'll eat better now!
Depend on the Army to bring in the chow."
Then a gooney stepped forward and said "What's the score?
War ships and battlewagons are lined up offshore,
while scads of destroyers are sweeping the bay."
It's the U.S.Army—they're landing today!

They rushed up the beaches as boats hit the sand;
fixed-bayonet rifles with grenades in hand;
Marines washing clothes said, "You lads going far?
What the hell's the hurry? Ain't you heard there's a war?"

"Shut up!" said our sergeants, "and go stretch your legs,
trade in those Jap helmets, and get some fresh eggs!
For this barking at doggies must come to an end;
we must be respectful to our fighting men."

Their generals outrank ours so they'll take command,
new rules and regulations will govern the land,
they'll have MPs to shove us around,
when the Army takes over it sure shakes the ground.

But we can take it, 'cuz it won't be long
till the admiral will bellow and we'll move on.
And a little while later we'll be landing again
to make another place safe . . . for our fighting men.

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