“Khaki Bill” March Song (1917)



Sheet Music: Great War

1) “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier” (1915)

words by Alfred Bryan, music by Al. Piantadosi

Leo. Feist, Inc., New York

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 heard a mother murmur thru’ her tears:

Chorus

“I didn’t raise my boy to be a 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 to-day,

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!

Chorus

2) “When Our Mothers Rule the World” (1915)

words by Alfred Bryan, music by Jack Wells

published by Jerome H. Remick & Co., New York and Detroit

Campfires gleaming, Soldiers are dreaming, Sobs one lonesome lad, I left her sighing, I left her crying, She was all I had.

While men rule our nations, Sweethearts and mothers cry

Men in their madness caused all the sadness, And then they heard him sigh:

Chorus

There would be no sweethearts crying If our mothers had they say, There would be no lovers dying in the trenches far away. There would be no armies marching,

And no battle flags unfurled. Let us kneel and pray

We’ll live to see the day

When our mothers rule the world.

Up spoke another, “I’m with you, brother, All you say is right. Where is the

Mother would see another Send her boy to fight.

Men made all those cannons; Men made the shot and the shell,

While men are slaying mothers are praying, Praying that all is well.”

Chorus

3) “Wake Up, America!” (1916)

words by George Graff, Jr., music by Jack Glogau

Leo. Feist, Inc., New York

Have we forgotten, America, The battles our fathers fought? Are we ashamed of our history—In the peace fighting brought? Must we be laughed at, America, while our swords turn weak with rust?—Is the blood of our fathers wasted? And how have we treated their trust? Is Columbia the gem of the ocean? Is Old Glory the pride of the Free? Let’s forget ev’ry selfish emotion,—United forever let’s be!

Chorus

Wake up, America, If we are called to war, Are we prepared to give our lives For our sweethearts and our wives? Are our mothers and our homes worth fighting for? Let us pray, God, for peace, put peace with honor, But let’s get ready to answer duty’s call, So when Old Glory stands unfurled, Let it mean to all the world, America is ready, that’s all!

Do you remember George Washington, that winter at Valley Forge? Jackson and Custer and Farragut, and of Perry at Fort George? McKinley and Lincoln were fighting men, and the heroes our country knew, Simply crowd thru our hist’ry pages, Just think what they’ve done all for you!

Made Columbia the gem of the ocean, Made Old Glory the pride of the Free, Shall we fail in our test of devotion? Oh! What is our hist’ry to be?

Chorus

4) “Khaki Bill” March Song (1917)

words & music by Harry L. Watson

published by C. L. Barnhouse, Oskaloosa, Iowa

Banners flying, sweethearts sighing; Boys go marching a-long

singing liberty’s song Khak, khak, khaki! Hep, hep, step spry!

Hear the voice of freedom shouting, hear the bugles call.

Admiration of our nation Soldiers loyal and true—to Red, White and Blue,

Oh, hear the bugles calling you—Sons of blue and gray in khaki hue.

Chorus

Good-bye, you boys of liberty, We sing “fare-well, fare-well to thee.”

Good-bye Charley Jack and Joe, Tom, Dick, Harry, Terry, Roe

No matter what your name may be, You’re sons of our Uncle Sam.

O-ver valley, plain and hill, Waits a girl for ev’ry Khaki Bill.

Vermont Yankee, Dixie lanky; Boys from Ka-la-ma-zoo

‘Frisco, Long Is-land, too. Fall in line, Bill shoulder arms, till

Stars and Stripes of justice wave for all humanity.

Float Old Glory, freedoms story over mountain and sea pro-claiming liberty,

Oh, hear the bugles calling you—Sons of blue and gray in khaki hue.

Chorus

5) “Somewhere in France is Daddy” (1917)

words & music by Great Howard

published by Howard & LaVar Music Company, 1431 Broadway, New York

A little boy was sitting on his mother’s knee one day

And as he nestled close to her these words she heard

him say: “Oh! Mama, dear, please tell me why our

Daddy don’t come home, I miss him so and you do too,

Why are we left alone?” She tried hard not to

cry as she answered with a sigh:

Chorus

Somewhere in France is Daddy—Somewhere in

France is he. Fighting for home and country.

Fighting, my lad, for liberty. I pray ev’ry

night for the Allies—And ask God to help

them win. For our Daddy won’t come back ‘till

the Stars and Stripes they’ll tack—On Kaiser

William’s flagstaff in Berlin.

He put his arms around her neck and kissed

away a tear, And whispered to her gently:

“Gee! I’m proud of Daddy dear—He’s fighting

for the U. S. A. to uphold Old Glory’s fame,

And show the world, when our flag unfurled

We fight in Freedom’s name;” Then she gently

gave a sigh and made him this reply:

Chorus

6) “Somewhere in France (is the Lily)” (1917)

words by Philander Johnson, music by Joseph E. Howard

published by M. Whitmark & Sons

One day as morning shed its glow—Across the eastern sky,

A boy and girl in accents low, In a garden said

“Good bye.” She said, “Remember as you stray,

When each must do his share, The flowers blooming

here to-day—Are emblems over there!”

Refrain

Somewhere in France is the Lily, Close by the

English Rose; A Thistle so keen, and a Shamrock

green, And each loyal flow’r that grows.

Somewhere in France is a sweetheart, Facing

the battle’s chance, For the flow’r of our youth

fights for freedom and truth—Somewhere in France.

Each morning in that garden fair, Where sweetest

perfumes dwell, The lassie whispers low a pray’r

For the flowr’s she loves so well. And over

there as night draws near, Amid the shot and flame,

Unto the flag he holds so dear, A soldier breathes

her name.

Refrain

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