They have no fascination for me.



TELL YOUR TROUBLES TO THE CORPORAL OF THE GUARD

If number one you are walking,
And to a comrade talking,
While around the country gawking,
Keeping neither watch nor ward,
And an officer unsaluted,
Swears at you with voice polluted,
Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If you are at the bridge of Spain,
And a foreign lady vain--
While a native with a rein
Jerks the skinny pony hard,
When to her aid you'll turn,
Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If on the Escolta posted,
And the sun your back has roasted,
And rebel chieftain boasted
As he handed you his card--
That he soon would clean you out
And put your Dewey's fleet to rout,
Tell your troubles to the Corporal of the Guard.

If to the canteen you are sent,