by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
When I lie down
For my last snooze,
And if I still have
The right to choose,
Just lay me out
Gently,
In my old blues.
Make sure my brass
Is shiny bright,
My stripes not askew,
My hash marks
All arranged
For all the boots
To view.
My blood stripes
Smooth along my legs,
A spit shine
On my shoes.
All things must be
Very right,
When I wear
My old blues.
Place me on
A horse-drawn cart,
Lead me to my grave.
Fire for me a volley,
Tell them I was brave.
Oh, bugler,
Hold that long last note
And let it fade away,
As I will the morrow
My very final day!
* * *
About the author: Robert Cook served with Reg. Weapons Co.(2d-2d) from 1942~44, at Guadalcanal
and Tarawa, during a 33-month overseas tour.
