Lyrics to "Over There"
George M. Cohan, 1917
 

Johnnie, get your gun
Get your gun, get your gun,
Take it on the run,
On the run, on the run.
Hear them calling you and me,
Every son of liberty.
Hurry right away,
No delay, no delay,
Make your daddy glad
To have had such a lad.
Tell your sweetheart not to pine,
To be proud her boy's in line.

Chorus
Over there, over there,
Send the word, send the word over there--
That the Yanks are coming,
The Yanks are coming,
The drums rum-tumming
Ev'rwhere.
So prepare, say a pray'r,
Send the word, send the word to beware.
We'll be over, we're coming over,
And we won't come back till it's over
Over there.

Johnnie, get your gun,
Get your gun, get your gun,
Johnnie show the Hun
Who's a son of a gun.
Hoist the flag and let her fly,
Yankee Doodle do or die.
Pack your little kit,
Show your grit, do your bit.
Yankee Doodle fill the ranks,
From the towns and the tanks.
Make your mother proud of you,
And the old Red, White, and Blue
(repeat chorus twice)

Pack up Your Troubles

Melody - Melody - Felix Powell
George Henry Powell (Asaf), 1912

Private Perks is a funny little codger
With a smile, a funny smile.
Five feet none he's an artful little dodger,
With a smile, a funny smile.
Flush or broke he'll have his little joke,
He can't be suppressed,
All the other fellows have to grin,
When he gets this off his chest, HI!

Chorus:
Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And smile, smile, smile.
While you've a lucifer to light your fag,
Smile boys, that's the style.
What's the use of worrying,
It never was worthwhile. So:
Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And smile, smile, smile.

Private Perks went a-marching into Flanders,
With a smile, his funny smile.
He was loved by the privates and commanders
For his smile, his funny smile,
When a throng of bosches came along,
With a mighty swing,
Perks yelled out,"this little bunch is mine!
Keep your heads down, boys and sing, HI!

Chorus:

Private Perks he came back from bosche shooting,
With his smile, his funny smile,
Round his home he then set about recruiting,
With his smile, his funny smile.
He told all his paks, the short, the tall,
What a time he'd had,
And as each enlisted like a man,
Private perks said "now my lad," HI!

Chorus:

The words were written first by George, then put to music by his brother. Both thought the song was a dud, and put it away. Later it was submitted in a competition for a marching song, which it won. It was then incorporated into the brothers' music-hall act, and became an instant hit. Felix Powell shot himself in 1942, apparently feeling that he had nothing left to live for. 

How 'Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm?
Walter Donaldson

Transcribed from Lieut. Jim Europe's 369th U.S. Infantry ("Hell Fighters") Band, vocals by Noble Sissle, recorded March 3-7, 1919.
From James Reese Europe and the 369th US Infantry "Hell Fighters" Band, Featuring Noble Sissle, the Complete Pathe Recordings - 1919, IAJRC CD 1012, 1996.

How 'ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm
After they've seen Paree?
How 'ya gonna keep them away from Broadway,
Jazzin' around,
And paintin' the town?
How 'ya gonna keep 'em away from harm?
That's the mystery!
They'll never want to see a rake or plow,
And who the deuce can parlez-vous a cow?
How 'ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm
After they've seen Paree?
 

The song on this page is "Keep the Home-Fires Burning," a popular song in World War I. The lyrics are by Lena Ford and the music by Ivor Novello.
 
 

Keep the home-fires burning,
While your hearts are yearning,
Though your lads are far away
They dream of home;
There's a silver lining
Through the dark cloud shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home.

IT'S A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY...1912

Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day,
As the streets were paved with gold, sure ev'ry one was gay,
Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square,
Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there:

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go,
It's a long way to Tipperary,
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly! Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long, long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there!

Paddy wrote a letter to his Irish Molly O',
Saying "Should you not receive it, write and let me know!
If I make mistakes in spelling, Molly dear", said he,
"Remember it's the pen that's bad, don't lay the blame on me"

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go,
It's a long way to Tipperary,
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly! Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long, long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there!

Molly wrote a neat reply to Irish Paddy O',
Saying "Mike Maloney wants to marry me, and so,
Leave the Strand and Piccadilly, or you'll be to blame,
For love has fairly drove me silly - hoping you're the same!"

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go,
It's a long way to Tipperary,
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly! Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long, long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there! 

Artist: Garth Brooks
Album: Sevens
Title: Belleau Wood

Oh, the snowflakes fell in silence
Over Belleau Wood that night
For a Christmas truce had been declared
By both sides of the fight
As we lay there in our trenches
The silence broke in two
By a German soldier singing
A song that we all knew
Though I did not know the language
The song was "Silent Night"
Then I heard my buddy whisper,
"All is calm and all is bright"
Then the fear and doubt surrounded me
'Cause I'd die if I was wrong
But I stood up on my trench
And I began to sing along
Then across the frozen battlefield
Another's voice joined in
Until one by one each man became
A singer of the hymn
Then I thought that I was dreaming
For right there in my sight
Stood the German soldier
'Neath the falling flakes of white
And he raised his hand and smiled at me
As if he seemed to say
Here's hoping we both live
To see us find a better way
Then the devil's clock struck midnight
And the skies lit up again
And the battlefield where heaven stood
Was blown to hell again
But for just one fleeting moment
The answer seemed so clear
Heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's just beyond the fear
No' heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's for us to find it here

I DIDN'T RAISE MY BOY TO BE A SOLDIER

Ten million soldiers to the war have gone
Who may never return again,
Ten million mothers' hearts must break
For the ones who died in vain.
Head bowed down in sorrow
In her lonely years
I hears a mother murmur thro' her tears.

cho: I didn't raise my boy to be soldier
I brought him up to be my pride and joy
Who dares to place a musket on his shoulder
To shoot some other mother's darling boy?
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles
It's time to lay the sword and gun away,
There'd be no war today
If mothers all would say:
"I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier."

What victory can cheer a mother's heart
When she looks at her blighted home?
What victory can bring her back
All she cared to call her own?
Let each mother answer
In the years to be
Remember that my boy belongs to me!