A FIRST-CLASS PRIVATE.

I have n't a worry or a care —

My mind's “at ease” and furled:

For I'm a First-class Private,

And I'm Sitting on the World.

The Loot, before the whole platoon,

He up and called me forth

To drill my squad, “Squads east” and “west,”

Not mentioning south and north.

To drill my squad, “Squads‘ round-about,”

For all the World to see —

But I'm a First-class Private and

That's good enough for me.

The Loot he is a dandy man

And all that kind of thing,

And I know he wants to see how I

A corporal's job could swing:

But back here in a “rest town”

It just means dirty work,

And I must take the bawling-out

For what the squad may shirk.

‘ Tis I they'd turn and eye with scorn

If some gun was n't clean;

‘ Tis I would play the wet nurse

For a rookie none could wean:

And if a pair of frozen shoes

Makes Smith miss reveille,

It is n't Smith or “Sunny France,”

It's me, yes dammit, me.

So forth I take the Squad to drill,

With ne'er a fault or slip;

But a smile is in my glance, forsooth,

And a jest is on my lip,

Akidding with each friend o'mine —

And the Loot was never fain

To try to make a non-com

Of Private Me again.

Oh nothing, oh no nothing

May your resolution shake,

When you're a First-class Private,

And you know you're Sitting Jake.