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The Son of a Gun Who Picks On Uncle Sam lyrics

The Son of a Gun Who Picks On Uncle Sam lyrics, music by Burton Lane, lyrics by E.Y. Harburg, performed in Panama Hattie

We’re off to fry the hide right off of the Heine
We’re off to slap the Jap right off of the map
We’ll knock him on his Axis right from here to Alabam
Oh, the son of a gun who picks on Uncle Sam

We don’t care if it’s Tripoli or Sumatra,
We don’t care if it’s Tokyo or Siam,
We’ll sock the sukiyaki out of any diaphragm
Oh, the son of a gun who picks on Uncle Sam

Well the Danes and Dutch and French and such
They are not forgotten men.
Tell the cockeyed world our flag’s unfurled
The planes are hummin’, the tanks are comin’, the Yanks are in again!

We’ve got a wood kimono for the Mikado,
We’ve got the mausoleum for Mussolin’
We’ll get the Schickilgrouber for the coroner’s exam,
Oh, we’re off to carve our monogram,
On the son of a gun who picks on Uncle Sam

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