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Oh sergeant, I'm a draftee |
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And I've just arrived in camp |
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I've come to wear the uniform |
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And join the martial tramp |
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And I want to do my duty |
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But one thing I do implore |
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You must give me lessons, sergeant |
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For I've never killed before |
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To do my job obediently |
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Is all that I desire |
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To learn my weapon thoroughly |
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And how to aim and fire |
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To learn to kill the enemy |
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And then to slaughter more |
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Oh, I'll need instruction, sergeant |
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For I've never killed before |
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Now, there are rumors in the camp |
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About our enemy |
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They say that when you see him |
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He looks just like you and me |
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But you deny it, sergeant |
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And you are a man of war |
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So you must give me lessons |
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For I've never killed before |
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Now, there are several lessons |
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That I haven't mastered yet |
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I haven't got the hang of |
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How to use the bayonet |
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If he doesn't die at once |
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Am I to stick him with it more? |
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Oh, I hope you will be patient |
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For I've never killed before |
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And the hand grenade is somethin' |
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That I just don't understand |
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You've got to throw it quickly |
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Or you're apt to lose your hand |
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Does it blow a man to pieces |
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With it's wicked, muffled roar? |
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Oh, I've got so much to learn |
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Because I've never killed before |
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Well, I want to thank you, sergeant |
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For the help you've been to me |
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You've taught me how to kill |
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And to hate the enemy |
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And I know that I'll be ready |
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When they march me off to war |
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And I know that it won't matter |
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That I've never killed before |
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I know that it won't matter |
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That I've never killed before |
