Lyrics:
the crowds in the street
-The blast of the Bugle- the tramp of the feet
And the gang, that old gang of mine
Was the first gang that hit the Von Hindenburg
marry me.
I hear the sound of bugles blowing,
Far away, far away.
And if they call, then I must go
Across the sea, so wild and gray.
So, Mary,
the crowds in the street
-The blast of the Bugle- the tramp of the feet
And the gang, that old gang of mine
Was the first gang that hit the Von Hindenburg
the crowds in the street
-The blast of the Bugle- the tramp of the feet
And the gang, that old gang of mine
Was the first gang that hit the Von Hindenburg
far away the worst friend we've ever had,
When he's far away well, we're mighty glad.
Our bugler goes his rounds, and when the bugle sounds.
Forever
lonely heart bled
Now love sounds her bugle, playing loves old sweet song
While the scars from an old love haven't quite all gone
Yes the battle is
waiting for the next attack
You'd better stand there's no turning back.
The Bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins
marry me.
I hear the sound of bugles blowing,
Far away, far away.
And if they call, then I must go
Across the sea, so wild and gray.
So, Mary,
and the bugle sounds
In their fight for love and glory
No Indians were saved
And Big Chief Woolly Bosher
Had written on his grave
He has done no wrong
the British come
And there musta' been a hundred of 'em beating on the drum.
They stepped so high and they made their bugles ring
We stood beside our
angel
Blew into the bugle in lieu of
The euthanasia
Usually the shooter community chew
The corpse but I
See the wolves have already gotten
To you
'cuz even silly pink bunnies look
Scary in the dark!
Bang on pots and pans, ring alarm swiftly
Cue to bugle turbulent
Who salute the worker ant?
Duke up
on detox shawtie look bad
Maybe I could hit her g-spot
Her man look lame, a bugle boy
He's the Rebox
3 shots down the drain and I’m rolling
Where the fucking
You won't see any big parade
There won't be any bugle played
Sad to say no war today
'Cause the general's fast asleep
Soldiers bold in a mighty
To the redcoat's bugle calls
But when he got home his path was blocked
By some 'sportman's' clever guise
And if this how far your culture's got
Then I deny it
This is where your sleepless eyes will close.
This is where the weary find repose.
This is where a kinder bugle blows.
This is where you'll wake,
for me I hope it will I hope it will
Salutations at last down on my knees
I heard the bugle this morn blast reveille
Woke from a dream where I was
the crowds in the street
-The blast of the Bugle- the tramp of the feet
And the gang, that old gang of mine
Was the first gang that hit the Von Hindenburg
as soon as he saw me, whoops, 'e was away
Running like a rabbit, or a frisky poodle
Blowing his trousers like a bugle
Then I went and got busted
and the bugle sounds
In their fight for love and glory
No Indians were saved
And Big Chief Woolly Bosher
Had written on his grave
He has done no wrong
the crowds in the street
-The blast of the Bugle- the tramp of the feet
And the gang, that old gang of mine
Was the first gang that hit the Von Hindenburg
mind
Somewhere beyond the great divide
The bugle of the bull elk echos through pines
The north wind moans her lonesome lullaby
He hungers for
for tonight
Time to stop your schemin', time your day was through
Can't you hear the bugle softly say
Time you should be dreamin'
Little man,
Morning comes, the day eludes you
I know you don't have room or time to be you
The sound of foghorn or the bugle
I know that you can hum the tune
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