Grafted into the Army

Our Jimmy went off to sleep in a tent, they grafted him into the army. He bit down hard, then up and went, they grafted him into the army. I told that captain, that boy ain’t grown. Stamped him, passed him, sent him from home. Boot hit dirt, and the paper got signed, then they grafted him into the army. Don’t sell me brave. Don’t badge my boy. Keep your roll call off his name, you grafted him into the army. They trained him stiff. They trained him thin. They named it duty. I tasted tin. Too young, too young, that boy ain’t grown. That tent ain’t home. That cot ain’t home. Oh Jimmy, farewell. Your brothers fell way down in Alabarmy. I thought they would spare a widower’s last heir, but they grafted him into the army. Grafted into the Army, that’s what they said. “Our Jimmy has gone for to live in a tent;” “They have grafted him into the army;” Dressed up sharp, poor little chap, they grafted him into the army. Seems one day since he sat in my lap, but they grafted him into the army. Them trousers knew his knees. Them buttons knew my hands. That patch knew rain through broken slats. That tear knew all our plans. Uncle Sam came clean and cold, gave him a pair with a soldier fold. New cloth scratched his neck. Old cloth knew his bones. I know that walk. It ain’t his walk. I know that talk. It ain’t his talk. A boy gets cut, then called a man, when they graft him into the army. Folks kept nodding. Folks kept grinning. My mouth went dry from the drum beginning. Oh Jimmy, farewell. Your brothers fell way down in Alabarmy. I thought they would spare a widower’s last heir, but they grafted him into the army. Grafted into the army. Grafted into the army. “I thought they would spare a lone widower's heir,” “But they grafted him into the army.” Now in my provisions, I see his face, they grafted him into the army. Bread on the board bears his name, they grafted him into the army. A picket out by the settled field, small boy set up with steel for a shield. His knees knock soft. His mouth goes dry. Big volunteer standing right in his eye. He looks kinda sickish, starts to cry. Big man in blue blocking all the sky. My sweet little duck might up and die, now they’ve grafted him into the army. Don’t preach ribs to me. I heard his breath split. That drum got teeth, and my chest bit back. Captain, you hear me. Captain, you lied. He ain’t your grown man. He’s my blood outside. Too young, too young, that boy ain’t grown. That tent ain’t home. That cot ain’t home. Oh Jimmy, farewell. Your brothers fell way down in Alabarmy. I thought they would spare a widower’s last heir, but they grafted him into the army. Oh Jimmy, farewell. That tent ain’t home. That drum got teeth. That field got bones. Grafted into the army. Grafted into the army.