Some day when the war is ended
And we sail from France away,
With sorrow and longings blended,
Back home to America;
And we live once more in Blighty
A thousand years in a day,
In the Land of God Almighty
Where the Old Folks watch and pray:
Some day, when we hit the pillow
Again on a box-spring bed,
As snug as an armadillo
With his shell-protected head;
When bugles refrain from tooting,
And noises of battle stop;
When victory ends recruiting,
Or charging Over the Top:
_Some_ day! when we're thru with fighting
And the beaten Hun retreats;
When the Cooties cease from biting
And we sleep between the sheets!