How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning Song
This Song is meant for Scouts BSA.
Decide for yourself if it is appropriate for your younger scouts or not.
Decide for yourself if it is appropriate for your younger scouts or not.
Lyrics:
The other day I chanced to meet a camping friend of mine.
He'd been in camp for several weeks and he was looking fine.
His muscles had developed and his cheeks were rosy red.
I asked him how he liked the camp, and this is what he said:
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.
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday they're going to find him dead.
I'll amputate his reveille
and stomp upon it heavily,
And spend the rest of my life in bed!
A bugler at camp 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!
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.
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday they're going to find him dead.
I'll amputate his reveille
and stomp upon it heavily,
And spend the rest of my life in bed!
He'd been in camp for several weeks and he was looking fine.
His muscles had developed and his cheeks were rosy red.
I asked him how he liked the camp, and this is what he said:
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.
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday they're going to find him dead.
I'll amputate his reveille
and stomp upon it heavily,
And spend the rest of my life in bed!
A bugler at camp 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!
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.
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday they're going to find him dead.
I'll amputate his reveille
and stomp upon it heavily,
And spend the rest of my life in bed!
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