D7  G                       D7     G                       G#°
                 THE OTH-ER DAY I CHANCED TO MEET A SOL-DIER FRIEND OF MINE,
                    D7               G        Em         A7              D7
               HE'D BEEN IN CAMP FOR SEV-'RAL WEEKS, AND HE WAS LOOK-ING FINE;
                 Dm6 Am       Dm     Am       AND     G           D7    G   G#°
                 HIS MUS-CLES HAD DE-VEL-OPED AND HIS CHEEKS WERE ROS-Y RED.
                D         G#°    D         F°        A7              D   D7
                I ASKED HIM HOW HE LIKED THE LIFE, AND THIS IS WHAT HE SAID:

                           G   C     G           Em7        A9   A7
                           OH, HOW I HATE TO GET UP  IN THE MORN-ING,
                              D7  Cm6     D7                 G  D7  G
                              OH! HOW I'D LOVE TO RE-MAIN IN BED;
                                  G7      E7         Am       F7      D7
                 FOR THE HARD-EST BLOW OF ALL, IS TO HEAR THE BUG-LER CALL:
                                  G
                          "YOU'VE GOT TO GET UP, YOU'VE GOT TO GET UP,
                              G
                              YOU'VE GOT TO GET UP THIS MORN-ING!"
                                C       G         Em7         A9  A7
                           SOME DAY I'M GO-ING TO MUR-DER THE BUG-LER,
                            D7   Cm6         D7                 G  D7  G
                            SOME DAY THEY'RE GO-ING TO FIND HIM DEAD;
                 G7   C     E7       Am      Cm      G        D7    G      Cm6
                 I'LL AM-PU-TATE HIS REV-EIL-LE, AND STAMP UP-ON IT HEAV-I-LY,
                                  G G#°     Am         D7      G
                              AND SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE IN BED

                       D7 G                    D7     G                 G#°
                       A  BUG-LER IN THE ARM-Y IS THE LUCK-I-EST OF MEN,
                    D7                G         Em        A7            D7
                 HE WAKES THE BOYS AT FIVE, AND THEN GOES BACK TO BED A-GAIN.
                   Dm6 Am       Dm      Am     D7      G       D7     G    G#°
                   HE  DOES-N'T HAVE TO BLOW A-GAIN UN-TIL THE AF-TER NOON;
                     D      G#°        D         F°       A7           D   D7
                  IF EV-'RY THING GOES WELL WITH ME, I'LL BE A BUG-LER SOON.

                           G   C     G           Em7        A9   A7
                           OH, HOW I HATE TO GET UP  IN THE MORN-ING,
                              D7  Cm6     D7                 G  D7  G
                              OH! HOW I'D LOVE TO RE-MAIN IN BED;
                                   G7      E7         Am       F7      D7
                  FOR THE HARD-EST BLOW OF ALL, IS TO HEAR THE BUG-LER CALL:
                                 G
                         "YOU'VE GOT TO GET UP, YOU'VE GOT TO GET UP,
                             G
                             YOU'VE GOT TO GET UP THIS MORN-ING!"
                             C        G           Em7        A9 A7
                         OH! BOY, THE MIN-UTE THE BAT-TLE IS O- VER,
                             D7  Cm6      D7                 G  D7  G  D7
                             OH! BOY, THE MIN-UTE THE FOE IS DEAD,
                 G7   C      E7   Am     Cm       G       D7     G       Cm6
                 I'LL PUT MY UN-I-FORM A-WAY, AND MOVE TO PHIL-A-DEL-PHI-AY,
                                 G G#°     Am         D7      G
                             AND SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE IN BED