My Dad was in the tank corp during World War I. A verse he used to do was one he picked up from other soldiers, a variation of one of the original verses. Folk process perhaps?

Someday I'm going to murder the bugler
Someday they're going to find him dead
I'll sneak up on his bunk at night
And stuff his horn with dynamite
And spend the rest of my life in bed.

Don Firth