One of Poul Anderson's stories, 'Arsenal Port' (Fantasy And Science Fiction, April 1965) features the words to, 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home' ("the cruel old Irish original" as Anderson describes it in the story):

"-Ye haven't an arm and ye haven't a leg,
Ye're an eyeless, noseless, chickenless egg.
Ye'll have to be put in a bowl to beg.
Och, Johnny, I hardly knew ye."

I remember reading those appalling words at an impressionable age and they shocked me and stuck in my mind. Just a couple of years later I heard someone sing them at my local Folk Club.
Funnily enough it's probably years since I thought about the song or the story - the thread prompted me to dig out the original magazine to convince myself that I hadn't dreamed it (naturally the story wasn't in the issue that I thought it was!).