My name is private Johnson, I'm from AEF
The 369th Infantry Regiment
From Harlem to France, from ghetto to trench
And honestly, here's not much difference
May 15th, an enemy patrol around twenty huns
Me and a box of grenades
I threw it all then took up my rifle, c'mon

191 days under fire, never retire
Men of Bronze go forward or die
Hold one's ground that's why they call us Hellfighters

God knows I give as good as I got
The fucking Labelle had a magazine clip
Of just three rounds and I fired it all
There was no time for reloading
I swung my rifle and brought it down
With a thrown blow upon the enemy's head
He went down crying and close-in fighting began
I stabbed one Jerry in the stomach
Felled a lieutenant and took a pistol shot in my arm
Before driving his knife between the ribs
Of a soldier who had climbed on my back

I killed four boches and wounded maybe ten
Or maybe five more can't count it well
The only weapon left is my bolo knife
So I climbed up from the ground and charged, hacking away at the foes
There wasn't anything so fine about it
Just fought for my life
A rabbit would have done that