This Is the Army Mr. Jones

We all have been selected from city and from farm They asked us lots of questions, they jabbed us in the arm We stood there at attention, our faces turning red The sergeant looked us over and this is what he said: This is the Army, Mister Jones No private rooms or telephones You had your breakfast in bed before But you won't have it there any more This is the Army, Mister Green We like the barracks nice and clean You had a housemaid to clean your floor But she won't help you out any more Do what the buglers command They're in the Army and not in a band This is the Army, Mister Brown You and your baby went to town She had you worried but this is war And she won't worry you anymore