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letra de the brass mounted army - bobby horton

oh, soldiers, i’ve concluded to make a little song
and if i tell no falsehood there can be nothing wrong
if any be offended at what i have to sing
then surely his own conscience applies the bitter sting

oh, how do you like this army
the brass-mounted army
the high-fallutin’ army
where eagle b-ttons rule?

oh, whisky is a monster, it ruins great and small
but in our n0ble army, headquarters gets it all
they drink it when there’s danger, although it seems too hard
but if a private touches it, they put him under guard

and when we meet the ladies we’re bound to go it sly
headquarters are the puddin’ and privates are the pie
they issue standin’ orders to keep us all in line
for if we had to show ’em the brass would fail to shine

oh, how do you like this army
the brass-mounted army
the high-fallutin’ army
where eagle b-ttons rule?

at every big plantation or wealthy man yard
just to save the property, the general puts a guard
the sentry’s then instructed to let no private pass
the rich man’s house and table are fixed to soothe the brass
i have to change the story, so beautiful and true
but the poor man and the widow must have a line or two
for them no guard is stationed, their fences all are burned
and property molested, as long ago you’ve learned

oh, how do you like this army
the brass-mounted army
the high-fallutin’ army
where eagle b-ttons rule?

the army’s now much richer than when the war begun
it furnishes three tables where once it had but one
the first is richly loaded with chickens, goose, and duck
the rest with pork and mutton, the third with good old buck

our generals eat the poultry, and buy it very cheap
our colonels and our majors devour the hog and sheep
the privates are contented, except when they can steal
with beef and corn bread plenty to make a hearty meal

oh, how do you like this army
the brass-mounted army
the high-fallutin’ army
where eagle b-ttons rule?

these things, and many others, are truly hard to me
but still i’ll be contented, and fight for liberty
and when the war is over, oh what a jolly time
we’ll be our own commanders and sing much sweeter rhymes
we’ll see our loving sweethearts, and sometimes kiss them, too
we’ll eat the finest rations, and bid old buck adieu
there’ll be no more generals with orders to compel
long boots and eagle b-ttons, forever fare ye well

and thus we’ll leave the army
the brass-mounted army
the high-falutin’ army
where eagle b-ttons rule!

- bobby horton

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