“The coffee that they give you
Is mighty, mighty fine,
It's fit for cuts and bruises
And tastes like iodine.
I don't want no more of army life,
Gee mom I wanna go home.

The biscuits that they serve you
Are also very fine,
One fell right off the table
And killed a pal of mine.
I don't want no more of army life,
Gee mom I wanna go home.

The uniforms they give you
Are tailor made to fit,
The blouse fits like a gunny sack,
The pants so tight they quit.
I don't want no more of army life,
Gee mom I wanna go home.

Our sergeant he's a fine one,
We've never seen him drunk,
But under all the fancy stripes
At heart he is a skunk.
I don't want no more of army life,
Gee mom I wanna go home.

The gals we never get to see
We miss 'em very much,
You just can't substitute the dames
With movie screens and such.
I don't want no more of army life,
Gee mom I wanna go,
Gee mom I wanna go,
Gee mom I wanna go home.”
Transcribed from: Texas Jim Robertson & the Panhandle Punchers - I Don't Want No More of Army Life
(Van Sciver, Darnell & Kay c.1950)