[Verse 1]
The oth-er day I chanced to meet a sol-dier friend of mine,
He'd been in camp for sev-'ral weeks and he was look-ing fine;
His mus-cles had de-vel-oped and his cheeks were ros-y red,
I asked him how he liked the life, and this is what he said:
[Chorus]
"Oh! how I hate to get up in the morn-ing,
Oh! how I'd love to re-main in bed;
For the hard-est blow of all,
is to hear the bu-gler call;
You've got to get up, you've got to get up,
you've got to get up this morn-ing!
Some-day I'm go-ing to mur-der the bu-gler,
Some day they're go-ing to find him dead;
I'll amp-u-tate his rev-eil-le
and step up-on it heav-i-ly,
And spend the rest of my life in bed."
[Verse 2]
A bu-gler in the arm-y is the luck-i-est of men,
He wakes the boys at five and then goes back to bed a-gain;
He does-n't have to blow a-gain un-til the af-ter-noon,
If ev-'ry-thing goes well with me, I'll be a bu-gler soon.
[Second Chorus]
"Oh! how I hate to get up in the morn-ing,
Oh! how I'd love to re-main in bed;
For the hard-est blow of all,
is to hear the bu-gler call;
You've got to get up, you've got to get up,
you've got to get up this morn-ing!
Oh! boy the min-ute the bat-tle is o-ver,
Oh! boy the min-ute the foe is dead;
I'll put my un-i-form a-way,
and move to Phil-a-del-phi-a,
And spend the rest of my life in bed."
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