Everybody knows the song “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”. If you don’t, this ain’t the place to find out about it so come back later once you have some idea of what I’m talking about. Some say it was based on an Irish folk song, some say it wasn’t, but I am not here to settle the great debate. If anything, I’d rather pour gasoline on it because I like to watch things burn.
Anyhow, said Irish folk song, “Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye”, is also about a dude named Johnny coming back from war, but unlike its fellow, this one is a whole lot darker. Johnny comes back missing all sorts of things, like limbs, a future, and his general dignity. It’s a lot more realistic than a bunch of dang Yankees singing about how instantly wonderful things will be once everybody gets back home.
It might be a good song, but naturally I cannot leave well enough alone, so I decided to rewrite the darn thing. Something about comparing poor Johnny to an armless, boneless, chickenless egg just riled me up in all the wrong ways. Johnny deserves better. #JusticeForJohnny
Moving on.
If you think that I don’t take every opportunity to sing this plaintively to my cat when no one else is around, then you would be wrong.
When Johnny comes marching home again Hurrah, hurrah When Johnny comes marching home again Hurrah, hurrah When Johnny comes marching home again We’ll throw the welcome door open then For war is where boys become men When Johnny comes marching home. Oh what is your life now after the war? Haroo, haroo Oh what is your life now after the war? Haroo, haroo Oh what is your life now after the war? Terribly changed from all that before. You’re not my sweet, shy boy anymore Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. Oh where is the smile I knew so well? Haroo, haroo Oh where is the smile I knew so well? Haroo, haroo Oh where is the smile I knew so well? Somewhere lost in all that hell In the firing of guns and exploding of shells. Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. Oh where are the legs with which you ran? Haroo, haroo Oh where are the legs with which you ran? Haroo, haroo Oh where are the legs with which you ran When first you ran to carry a gun? And now your dancing days are done. Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. I was to be your bonny bride Haroo, haroo I was to be your bonny bride Haroo, haroo I was to be your bonny bride But now you are so cold inside. You had no comfort for me when I cried. Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. The funeral bells, they toll for thee Haroo, haroo The funeral bells, they toll for thee Haroo, haroo The funeral bells they toll for thee They were to be wedding bells for me But you and I shall never be Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. I think it best I leave you here Haroo, haroo I think it best I leave you here Haroo, haroo I think it best I leave you here Among the anger and the fear My Johnny boy, you are so dear Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. When Johnny comes marching home again Hurrah, hurrah When Johnny comes marching home again Hurrah, hurrah When Johnny comes marching home again He leaves behind all that has been And he must face the grief and sins When Johnny comes marching home. . .
~TheTexasLass
The Texas Lass 