Pretty tune, that one I was whistling, don't you think?
Picked it up on 'The Pike' in Cincinnati fifteen years ago.

Sorry I don't recall the words, or I'd sing them for you." The sergeant, his teeth clinched tightly to repress the pain racking him, stifled his resentment with an evident effort.

"You may be less light-hearted when you learn that the last of our ammunition is already in the guns," he remarked, stiffly.
"I suspected as much." And the speaker lifted himself on one elbow to peer down the line of recumbent figures.

"To be perfectly frank with you, sergeant, the stuff has held out considerably longer than I believed it would, judging from the way those 'dough boys' of yours kept popping at every shadow in front of them.

It 's a marvel to me, the mutton-heads they take into the army.