—— CRUSADERS. ——
Reading edition
Richard Cœur de Lion was a soldier and a king; He carried lots of hefty tools with which his foes to bing; He cased himself in armor tough—neck, shoulder, waist, and knee: But Richard, old Cœur de Lion, didn't have a thing on me.
For while old Cœur de Lion may have worn an iron casque, He never had to tote around an English gas-proof mask; He never galled himself with packs that weigh about a ton, Nor—lucky Richard—did he have to clean a beastly gun.
'Tis true he wore a helmet to protect himself from boulders, But then, he had good rest for it upon his spacious shoulders; While my tin hat is balanced on the peak of my bare dome, And after marching with it—gee! I wish that I were home!
His feet were cased in metal shoes, in length about a yard, Which, since they were so big, I bet did not go on as hard As Uncle Sam'yal's dancing pumps that freeze so stiff at night That donning them at reveille is sure an awful fright.
He never had to pull a Ford from out of muddy ruts— Although his breastplate warded spears from off his royal guts, His Nibs was never forced to face the fire of "forty-twos" And tear gas would have given him an awful case of blues.
He always rode a charger, while I travel on shanks' mare; He messed on wine and venison; I eat far humbler fare. I'll grant he was some fencer with his doughty snickersnee, But Richard Cœur de Lion didn't have a thing on me!