A WWI bugle song, 1918.
words and music by Irving Berlin
From the book America’s Songs I: “Stationed at Camp Upton in Yaphank, Long Island, Berlin found the army routine of marching and drilling arduous. “There were a lot of things about army life I didn’t like,” he said, “and the thing I didn’t like most of all was reveille. I hated it. I hated it so much I used to lie awake nights thinking about how much I hated it.” Berlin turned his frustration into a song that set words to the insistent call of the bugle.”
From Hit Songs by Don Tyler: “Berlin’s plaintive “Oh! How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning,” with its threat to murder the bugler, definitely struck a chord. The song’s comic complaining appealed not only to the soldiers, but also to the country at large. It eventually sold a million and a half copies of sheet music.”
The sheet music:
Accompaniment by James Pitt-Payne:
Lyrics
- The other day I chanced to meet
A soldier friend of mine
He’d been in camp for sev’ral weeks
And he was looking fine
His muscles had developed
And his cheeks were rosy red
I asked him how he liked the life
And this is what he said
Chorus
“Oh! how I hate to get up in the morning
Oh! how I’d love to remain in bed
For the hardest blow of all
Is to hear the bugler call
You’ve got to get up, you’ve got to get up
You’ve got to get up this morning
Some day I’m going to murder the bugler
Some day they’re going to find him dead
I’ll amputate his reveille
And step upon it heavily
And spend the rest of my life in bed”
Chorus
“Oh! how I hate to get up in the morning
Oh! how I’d love to remain in bed
For the hardest blow of all
Is to hear the bugler call
You’ve got to get up, you’ve got to get up
You’ve got to get up this morning
Oh! boy the minute the battle is over
Oh! boy the minute the foe is dead
I’ll put my uniform away
And move to Philadelphia
And spend the rest of my life in bed”
- A bugler in the army
Is the luckiest of men
He wakes the boys at five
And then goes back to bed again
He doesn’t have to blow again
Until the afternoon
If everything goes well with me
I’ll be a bugler soon
Sung here by Fred Feild: