Over There by George M. Cohan 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, Everyone for liberty. Hurry right away, No delay, start today. 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 (after v. 2: Sammys) are coming, The Yanks (Sammys) are coming, The drums rum-tumming Ev’rywhere. 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 You’re 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 to the ranks, From the towns and the tanks. Make your mother proud of you, And the old Red, White and blue When their in flag-draped coffins and the Commander-in-Chief is saluting, I think this queue will take a lot more time. He might miss his golf game. And why isn't Barron in there? Will they restart the draft? Good luck with that!
