Sometimes swearin',
Reg'lar Army man.

No State'll call him "noble son,"
He ain't no ladies' pet,
But, let a row start anyhow,
They'll send for him, you bet!
He "do'n't cut any ice" at all
In Fash'n's social plan,--
He gits the job ter face a mob,
The Reg'lar Army man;
The millin', drilling
Made fer killin',
Reg'lar Army man.

[Illustration: "They ain't no tears shed over him. When he goes off
ter war."]

They ain't no tears shed over him
When he goes off ter war,
He gits no speech nor prayerful "preach"
From mayor or governor;
He packs his little knapsack up
And trots off in the van,
Ter start the fight and start it right,
The Reg'lar Army man;
The rattlin', battlin',
Colt or Gatlin',
Reg'lar Army man.