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186 Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' 'em,

An' there's no discharge in the war.

Try—try—try—try—to think o' something different—

Oh—my—God—keep—me from goin' lunatic!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots, movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war.

Count—count—count—count—the bullets in the bandoliers;

If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you

(Boots—boots—boots—boots, movin' up and down again)—

There's no discharge in the war!

We—can—stick—out—'unger, thirst, an' weariness,

But—not—not—not—not the chronic sight of 'em—

Boots—boots—boots—boots, movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!