Yet Another Journal

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» Friday, August 14, 2009
"Someday I'm Going to Murder the Bugler..."
James looked balefully in the mirror this morning as he shaved and said, "I hate that alarm clock."

So what was there to do but sing bits of Irving Berlin's World War I classic, "Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning":
The other day I chanced to meet a soldier friend of mine.
He'd been in camp for sev'ral weeks and he was looking fine.
His muscles had developed and his cheeks were rosy red.
I asked him how he liked the life, and this is what he said:

          Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning!
          Oh, how I'd love to remain in bed!
          For the hardest blow of all is to hear the bugler call,
          "You've got to get up. You've got to get up.
          You've got to get up this morning."
          Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
          Someday they're going to find him dead.
          I'll amputate his reveille and stomp upon it heavily
          And spend the rest of my life in bed.

A bugler in the army is the luckiest of men.
He wakes the boys at five and then goes back to bed again.
He doesn't have to blow again until the afternoon.
If ev'rything goes well with me, I'll be a bugler soon.

          Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning!
          Oh, how I'd love to remain in bed!
          For the hardest blow of all is to hear the bugler call,
          "You've got to get up. You've got to get up.
          You've got to get up this morning."
          Oh, boy! The minute the battle is over --
          Oh, boy! The minute the foe is dead,
          I'll put my uniform away and move to Philadelph-eye-ay
          And spend the rest of my life in bed!

          Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning!
          Oh, how I'd love to remain in bed!
          For the hardest blow of all is to hear the bugler call,
          "You've got to get up. You've got to get up.
          You've got to get up this morning."
          Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
          Someday they're going to find him dead.
          And then I'll get that other pup—the guy who wakes the bugler up,
          And spend the rest of my life in bed.
My dad, the WWII infantry man, always pointed out that "the other pup" was the poor schmuck who'd been on guard duty all night, so he deserved a break! :-)

My favorite line about "o'dark thirty" as James calls it, is the wonderful one given to Hawkeye Pierce in an episode of M*A*S*H: "Now I know why they shoot people at sunrise. Who wants to live at six in the morning?"

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