By Jove, so ya tink ‘twas all glamorous an John Wayne & sich, huh? Dis here fort, like all t’others, was laid out by the ociffcers and bilt by the Boys of ’55 - an other years too – an hard labor it was. Same for all the roads – all those stagecoach roads &c - all bilt by sojers, usually the Infantry, sich as da Cache Owner, Private Bilbo (he was a sergeant but he'll tell you the last thing he remembers about losing his stripes is some silly charge about being drunk and disorderly. Certain sure, he says he's goin by da straight and narrow to git his stripes back. We'll see). On campane ‘twas hard marchin ever day, an ye’d be lucky ta git any more rations then hardtack an coffee – yep, each meal – hardtack an coffee – only variety bein' when you an yer messmates figurs ta use a onion for da one an some sugar fer ta’other - skillygalley we calls it. Well, this 1873 drinkin song tells it perty gud wat da sojer's life was like way out here on da frontier (if’n yer wants ta know da tune, an here da bones played, jist ast Private Bilbo, who is usually on duty the 2nd Saturday of each month during warm months):
"Tree years ago this very day, we went to Governors Isle, fer ta march forninst the cannons in true military style.
Thirteen American dollars each month we surely git, ta carry a gun wid bagnet to da regimental step.
We was given a choice ta go to the Army or to Jail, or it’s up the Hudson River, wid a Cop you take a sail.
So we puckered up our courage, wid bravery we did go, an' cursed the day we marched away
Wid da Regular Army, Oh!
Chorus:
There was Sergeant John McCafferty and Corp’ral Donohue.
Oh they made us march and toe the mark in gallant Company Q.
Oh da drums would roll upon me soul, for that’s the style we’d go,
40 miles and day on beans and hay (or 30 miles away we’d march all day),
In da Reglar Army, Oh!
I’ve got corns upon me feet me Boys an bunions on me toes, an luggin a gun in the red hot sun puts freckles on me nose.
England has its Grenadiers an France its zoo zoos, but the USA never changes they say an' continually wears the Blues.
So when ye go out on parade ye’ll have yer musket bright, or it’s off you go to the guardhouse to while away the night.
And when you want a furlough, to the Captain you do go. He says-------“Go to bed..................................an wait ‘til yer dead...................
in the Regular Army……O!”
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