Don't Take My Darling Boy Away Performed by J. Phillips and Helen Clark (c. 1916-17) Music by Albert von Tilzer Lyrics by Will Dillon (1915) A mother was kneeling to pray For loved ones at war far away And there by her side, her one joy and pride, knelt down with her that day Then came a knock on the door Your boy is commanded to war "No Captain please, here on my knees, I plead for one I adore" Don't take my darling boy away from me, Don't send him off to war You took his father and brothers three, Now you've come back for more Who are the heroes that fight your war Mothers who have no say But my duty's done so for god's sake leave one! And don't take my darling boy away. Tenting tonight, Tenting tonight Tenting on the old campground You took his father and brothers three, Now you've come back for more Tenting tonight, Tenting tonight Tenting on the old campground But my duty's done so for god's sake leave one! And don't take my darling boy away. A hero is now laid to rest, A hero and one of the best He fought with each son, The battles he'd won, And the battles that proved a test Though she never went to the war, She was a hero by far, they gave a gun But who gave a son, M. O. T. H. E. R. Don't take my darling boy away from me, Don't send him off to war You took his father and brothers three, Now you've come back for more Who are the heroes that fight your war Mothers who have no say But my duty's done so for god's sake leave one! And don't take my darling boy away. Tenting tonight, Tenting tonight Tenting on the old campground You took his father and brothers three, Now you've come back for more Tenting tonight, Tenting tonight Tenting on the old campground But my duty's done so for god's sake leave one! And don't take my darling boy away. I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier Performed by Peerless Quartet (1914) Music by Al Paintadosi Lyrics by Alfred Bryan (1914) Ten million soldiers to the war have gone, Who may never return again. Ten million mothers' hearts must break, For the ones who died in vain. Head bowed down in sorrow in her lonely years, I heard a mother murmur thro' her tears: Chorus: I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier, I brought him up to be my pride and joy, Who dares to put a musket on his shoulder, To shoot some other mother’s darling boy? Let nations arbitrate their future troubles, It’s time to lay the sword and gun away, There’d be no war today, If mothers all would say, I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier. (Chorus) What victory can cheer a mother’s heart, When she looks at her blighted home? What victory can bring her back, All she cared to call her own? Let each mother answer in the year to be, Remember that my boy belongs to me! (Chorus) America, I Love You Performed by Royal Dadmun (1915) Music by Archie Gottlier Lyrics by Edgar Leslie (1915) Amid fields of clover, T'was just a little over A hundred years ago, A handful of strangers, They faced many dangers, To make their country grow. It's now quite a nation Of wond'rous population, And free from ev'ry king! It's your land, it's my land, A great do or die land, And that's just why I sing: America, I love you! You're like a sweetheart of mine! From ocean to ocean, For you my devotion, Is touching each bound'ry line. Just like a little baby Climbing it's mother's knee, America, I love you! And there's a hundred million others like me! From all sorts of places, They welcomed all the races To settle on their shore. They didn't care which one, The poor or the rich one, They still had room for more. To give them protection By popular election, a set of laws they chose. They're your laws and my laws, For your cause and my cause. That's why this country rose. America, I love you! You're like a sweetheart of mine! From ocean to ocean, For you my devotion, Is touching each bound'ry line. Just like a little baby Climbing it's mother's knee, America, I love you! And there's a hundred million others like me!

Where Do We Go From Here Performed by Arthur Fields (1917) Music and Lyrics Howard John / Percy Wenrich (1917) Paddy Mack drove a hack Up and down Broadway, Pat had one expression and he'd use it every day; Any time he'd grab a fare, to take them for a ride, Paddy Jumped upon the seat, cracked his whip and cried. One fine day on Broadway, Pat was driving fast, When the street was blown to pieces by a subway blast; Down the hole poor Paddy went, a thinkin' of his past, Then he says, says he, I think these words will be my last: First of all, at the call, When the war began, Pat enlisted in the army as a fighting man; When the drills began, they'd walk a hundred miles a day, Tho the rest got tired, Paddy always used to say: Where do we go from here boys, Where do we go from here? Anywhere from Harlem to a Jersey City pier; When Pat would spy a pretty girl, he'd whisper in her ear, "Oh joy, Oh boy, Where do we go from here?" Where do we go from here boys, Where do go from here? Paddy's neck was in the wreck but still he had nor fear; He saw a dead man next to him and whispered in his ear, "Oh joy, Oh boy, Where do we go from here?" Where do we go from here boys, Where do we go from here? Slip a pill to Kaiser Bill and make him shed a tear; And when we see the enemy we'll shoot in the rear, "Oh joy, Oh boy, Where do we go from here?"

Over There Performed by Billy Murray (1917) Music and Lyrics George M. Cohan (1917) 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, Every 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. (chorus sung twice) Johnnie, get your gun, Get your gun, get your gun, Johnnie show the Hun Who's 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. Yankee to the ranks, From the towns and the tanks. Make your mother proud of you, And the old Red, White and Blue. (chorus sung twice) Chorus 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.