For they're goin' back towards U. S. A. and leave the Philippines,
They're tirin' of the Islands and the Army "pork and beans,"
That "single time," and "two per mile"--they all know what that means--
So now they're all a'goin' to leave the Army.
"Where is the 'Doughboy' goin' to?" asked Files-on-Parade,
"And what is he a-goin' to do?" the Color Sergeant said;
"Back to his farm! Back to his farm!" said Files-on-Parade,
"Behind the plow! Behind the plow," the Color Sergeant said.
No hiking o'er rice paddies,--but furrowed fields of corn,
To go to bed real early and get up in the morn',
To be his own "K. O." once more, in the country where he's born,
So soon he'll be a-quittin' of the Army.
"Where is the Trooper goin' to?" asked Files-on-Parade,
"And what is he a-goin' to do?" the Color Sergeant said;
"Perhaps he'll pack an Army mule," said Files-on-Parade,
"Or go out West to 'cow-boy,'" the Color Sergeant said.
He's fond of his "caballo," and he loves his old "outfit,"
And if they'd change those Army bills, he wouldn't ever quit,
But Chairman Hay, and others, have forced him into it.
So soon he'll be discharged from out the Army.
"Where is the 'Gunner' goin' to?" asked Files-on-Parade,
"And what is he a-goin' to do?" the Color Sergeant said;
"He's goin' to be a 'jackie,'" said Files-on-Parade,
"A sailor lad a'fore the mast," the Color Sergeant said.
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