Merry is the man

With money in his hand

With grease between the wheels

And lamps in his latrine



And stacks of fresh towels for his wet hands

Counting up all his toys

Draining tent fire from the neighbors

Sermons from soldier boys



Like our young cadet

Whose lords require sweat

Til Spain is on its ass

Surrend'ring Philippines



He‘s stuck in ruts wearing lead pants

Buried chest-deep in a Maginot

Wondering when he'll touch flesh again

Next chance he gets, he must tell her:



Oh, you've got Radium eyes



He can see his girl

With temporary curls,

Her doorbell fetching maid,

Pour fêtes a la piscine



But she's working, changing the bedpans

In cities where none but daughters roam

Stretchers fill ev'ry cathedral

Tarpaulins drip from each broken dome



You've got Radium eyes



Day meets night in your eyes.



Oh, you've got Radium eyes