Written by George M. Cohan. Published in 1917. Arranged and recorded by Curtis Chamberlain/Big Band Curtis in 2013.
Over there, over there, send the word, send the word over there, that the yanks are coming, the yanks are coming, the drums rum tumming ev'rywhere. So prepare, say a pray'r, send the word, send the word to beware, we'll be over we're coming over and we won't come back till it's over, over there.
Johnnie get your gun, get your gun, get your gun. Take it on the run, on the run, on the run. Hear them calling you and me, ev'ry son of liberty. Hurry right away, no delay, go today. Make your daddy glad to have had such a lad. Tell your sweetheart not to pine, to be proud her boy's in line.
Johnnie get your gun, get your gun, get your gun. Johnny show the Hun you're a son of a gun. Hoist the flag and let her fly, Yankee Doodle do or die. Pack your little kit, show your grit, do your bit. Yankees to the ranks from the towns and the tanks. Make your mother proud of you and the old Red, White and Blue.