A UNITED STATES TROOPER ON THE LATE WAS.
YES, we've taken Santiago.
It cost a lively scrap; But scrappin's what we come here for, So we don't care a rap.
We've dug our share of trenches And graves to plant our dead, And heard the Mauser bullets A-singin' overhead.
We've lived on canned tomatoes, Hard-tack, and greasy pork, And washed it down with water Like the harbour of New York.
We ain't no wolfing rookies, Nor volunteers, I guess, That wants a whole Delmonico's Served up at every mess.
We've br'iled beneath the sunshine,. And shivered in the rain, But all that goes with soldiering, So we will not complain.
But now it's done and over I'm wondering what's the use Of Uncle Sammy's sending us To turn these niggers loose. I've seen a chance o' service Since wearin' o' the blue; I've mixed with the Apaches And mingled with the Sioux.
I used to think them thievin', Bnt by the holy smoke, They've got respec' for property 'Long side of these here folk.
You dursen't take your shoes off When down to sleep you lay, For if you do, some Cuban Will be wearin' them away.
And if by chance you take your eye From blanket or canteen, You can bet your bottom dollar That they'll never more be seen.
They ain't no good for nothin', As far as I can see, Excep' for eating rations That's been served out to me; And setting under palm-trees A-gambling with sea-beans, And saying of " Murano,"— Whate'er in H— that means.
I don't regret I come here And shared in that attack, But I am most awful happy For to know we're going back.
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