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Trails of the 127th Field Artillery


Tis a wonderful time our regiment has seen
Since the day we joined the fighting machine.
Each day has been a long and monotonous one,
But now it is over and our work is done.

Our work began in New Mexico,
Where the toads and lizzards (sic) and cactus grow;
Where the Sandstorms raved and the coyotes yelled;
And for ten long months in this place we dwelled.

We done squads left, and we done squads right,
Yes, we drilled or hiked from morn ’till night.
We’d get out in the morning with rifles in hand,
And hike and drill in the dust and the sand.

Then at last our work sort of changed a bit,
They gave us big guns and horses with fits.
And we worked with the guns and the horses until,
They sent us to the range to test our skill.

This sort o’ work we didn’t mind much,
For we thought we’d soon get a shot the the "Dutch."
So we kept on eating the dust and the sand,
Until we were ready for the foreign land.

Then soon we began thinking we’d had enough,
But they sent us to "Sill" for the same old stuff.
And when we came there we were rather surprised,
As the sand from Camp Cody had already arrived.

Now about Fort Sill, I shall make no remark
For we had passes to Lawton and to Medicine Park,
But in a few months we completed our school,
And got orders to prepare for our trip o’er the pool.

And when it drew near to departing time,
About every five minutes we were called to the line.
To police up the kitchen, and police up the street,
And stand at attention ’till it blistered our feet.

On a black dusty morn we left this southern Fort,
And entrained for a distant embarkation port,
And there we remained for about six days in all
Awaiting impatiently our transportation call.

At last came the order to strap on our packs,
Which weighted us down and nigh broke our backs.
After a tiresome journey, we arrived in New York
And boarded a ship called the "City of York."

Well a wonderful ship was the "City of York,"
Their meals were delicious, stewed mutton and port.
The ocean was stormy and the waves washed high,
And I don’t see to–day how we ever got by.

For fourteen days in this manner we rode
And finally reached Liverpool and began to unload,
Well you’ve heard many stories of the ocean blue,
But the story of our trip doesn’t hardly seem true.

Well "Somewhere in France" we finally came,
This 127th, with all its fame.
Well it wasn’t very long till the "Kaiser" quit,
He’d heard we were there with the stuff and the Grit.

The Farnam Echo 16(9):1, Thursday, 6 February 1919

 



Published: 5/24/2018 - http://www.historicfarnam.us
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