Sydney Robin, William Roerick & Henry Jones
this is the army mr jones
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We all have been selected from city and from farm
They asked us lots of questions, they jabbed us in the arm
We stood there at attention, our faces turning red
The sergeant looked us over and this is what he said:
This is the Army, Mister Jones
No private rooms or telephones
You had your breakfast in bed before
But you won't have it there any more
This is the Army, Mister Green
We like the barracks nice and clean
You had a housemaid to clean your floor
But she won't help you out any more
Do what the buglers command
They're in the Army and not in a band
This is the Army, Mister Brown
You and your baby went to town
She had you worried but this is war
And she won't worry you anymore