The other day I chanced to meet a soldier friend of mine,

Hed been in camp for sevral weeks and he was looking fine;

His muscles had developed and his cheeks were rosy red,

I asked him how he liked the life, and this is what he said:



CHORUS 1:



Oh! how I hate to get up in the morning,

Oh! how Id love to remain in bed;

For the hardest blow of all, is to hear the bugler call;

Youve got to get up, youve got to get up, youve got to get up this morning!

Some day Im going to murder the bugler,

Some day theyre going to find him dead;

Ill amputate his reveille, and step upon it heavily,

And spend the rest of my life in bed.



CHORUS 2:



Oh! how I hate to get up in the morning,

Oh! how Id love to remain in bed;

For the hardest blow of all, is to hear the bugler call;

Youve got to get up, youve got to get up, youve got to get up this morning!

Oh! boy the minute the battle is over,

Oh! boy the minute the foe is dead;

I'll put my uniform away, and move to Philadelphia,

And spend the rest of my life in bed.



A bugler in the army is the luckiest of men,

He wakes the boys at five and then goes back to bed again;

He doesnt have to blow again until the afternoon,

If evry thing goes well with me I'll be a bugler soon.



(CHORUS 1)

(CHORUS 2)