To hear old Jerry chuckle on Christmas, '68!
Thus it went, with joke and banter--what a romping time we had!
The redskins in the coulées must have thought we'd gone clean mad,
For they started popping bullets at the sentinels on guard
And we had to stop our nonsense, and sortie good and hard.
But that was daily routine--always got it, soon or late--
If we hadn't, we'd felt lonely on Christmas, '68.
So I'm here to tell you rookies who are kicking on your lot
That you don't know service hardship as we got it, served up hot,
For the Philippines are easy and Hawaii is a snap
When compared to fighting Injins over all the Western map,
And, next time you start to growling when your mail's an hour late,
Just recall the boys at Buford, on Christmas, '68!
That the experts have devised for spillin' gore;
For a rapid transit, quick installment war.
Who will stick to graded roads with all his forces,
We were satisfied to get along on horses.
How they pranced along the column as the bugles blew the "Trot!"
And they'd bring us back in safety if they weren't left to rot.
And we knew the reds were headin' for the timber and the rocks,
Then the horses were the boys that got the knocks.
But a little mess o' dirty oats that wouldn't feed a colt;
When a man or horse is hungry, ain't he bound to try and bolt?
And the flankers had to scramble with their toes and finger-nails,
Then the horses had to suffer for the badness of the trails.
And a hundred-weight of trumpery a-dangle all around;
And they couldn't find a footing or an inch of solid ground.
And up among the fallen pines we heard their rifles crack;
At the snub-nosed little carbines that they couldn't fire back!
How they kicked and raised the devil down among the tangled trees!
When they got a whiff of redskin on the chilly mountain breeze.
A yelping Injun, daubed with clay, he isn't nice to see.
Wasn't scared enough of Injuns not to save my life for me.
When the hostiles flanked the squadron from a wooded ridge near by,
But they didn't know they'd left me with a bullet in my thigh!
And they came a-lopin' downward for this short-hair scalp of mine,
For I didn't know my Texan hadn't bolted with the line,
With the reins against his ankles, there that blaze-face rascal stood!
