“Fit for Nothing, Marching Anyway”
(Officially prohibited for causing spontaneous courage)
Verse 1
We woke with bone spurs, coughs, and sighs,
A limp in truth, a ache in lies,
Our hearts were weak, our boots too tight,
Our papers said unfit to fight.
Chorus
Oh we’re fit for nothing, they all agreed,
Unwell in body, but strong in need!
If courage counts as a poor disease,
Then quarantine us—if you please!
Verse 2
The doctor frowned, the clerk wrote “No,”
The forms marched faster than we could go,
Homesick men with trembling knees,
Allergic to guns, fate, and decrees.
Chorus
Oh we’re fit for nothing, the records show,
Except for singing when drums say go!
If fear could march, we’d lead the line,
But somehow we arrived on time.
Verse 3
Then came a Baron, calm and dry,
One eyebrow up, one asking why,
He didn’t cure us, didn’t plead—
He gave our excuses something to be.
Bridge (spoken, then sung)
“Gentlemen,” he said, “your pain is true—
It’s just miscast. I’ll reassign you.”
Verse 4
So limps became a scouting art,
Short breath meant courage in smaller parts,
Homesick songs kept camp alive,
Weak hearts taught us how to survive.
Final Chorus (LOUD, BANNED)
Oh we’re fit for nothing, hear us roar,
We marched straight through the medical door!
If morale’s a crime, then lock us tight—
We’ll sing ourselves free every night!
Outro
We won some fights, lost some well,
Invented songs no law could quell,
And if you ask why orders failed—
Too much spirit.
Too well inhaled.
“Pour It Where the Orders Can’t Reach”
(Unofficial battalion drinking song)
Verse 1
We drank for the bone spurs that never quite healed,
For knees that protested but still took the field,
For coughs that appeared when the bugle was blown,
And vanished again when the sergeant was gone.
Chorus
So pour it where the orders can’t reach,
Where excuses and courage still talk to each other,
If the body says “no” and the story says “yes,”
Have another, my brother — have another.
Verse 2
We drank to the doctors with ink on their hands,
Who cured us with papers and sent us to stand,
They measured our pulse, shook their heads just so,
Then marched us straight back where the symptoms would go.
Chorus
So pour it where the orders can’t reach,
Where the ledger gives up and the heart starts to speak,
If you’re unfit by rule but ready by song,
You’re exactly where you belong.
Verse 3
We drank to the Baron — not smiling, not stern,
One eyebrow that taught us when not to adjourn,
He said, “I won’t heal you, I’ll give you a part,”
And our ailments resigned from the body to art.
Chorus (lower, slower)
So pour it where the orders can’t reach,
Where fear learns the words but forgets how to preach,
If tomorrow’s uncertain and yesterday lied,
Drink to the story that stayed.
Final Toast (spoken)
To victories counted,
To losses done proud,
To songs never written
Because they were loud.
Drink. Tap the mug. Stop before the chorus repeats.
— Traditionally sung just once.
