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.