The most prodigious man of the American theater at that time, George M. Cohan—performer, playwright, producer, and composer—wrote the words and music to this song shortly after the declaration of war, while riding the train from his home in New Rochelle to New York. Enrico Caruso and Nora Bayes made hugely popular recordings of it; but only a few people ever heard perhaps its most moving renditions, as it became President Wilson’s favorite song. He sang it in the corridors of the White House, his voice never failing to crack whenever he got to the last line.
Johnnie get your gun, get your gun, get your gun,
Take it on the run, on the run, on the run,
Hear them calling you and me,
Ev’ry son of liberty.
Hurry right away, no delay, go today,
Make your daddy glad to have had such a lad,
Tell your sweetheart not to pine,
To be proud her boy’s in line.
Over there over there
Send the word, send the word over there
That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming,
The drums rum-tumming ev’ry where
So prepare say a pray’r
Send the word, send the word to beware
We’ll be over, we’re coming over,
And we won’t come back till it’s over, over there!
Johnnie get your gun, get your gun, get your gun,
Johnnie show the Hun you’re a son of a gun,
Hoist the flag and let her fly,
Yankee Doodle do or die.
Pack your little kit, show your grit, do your bit,
Yankees to the ranks from the towns and the tanks,
Make your mother proud of you
And the old Red White and Blue.
Over there over there
Send the word, send the word over there
That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming,
The drums rum-tumming ev’ry where
So prepare say a pray’r
Send the word, send the word to beware
We’ll be over, we’re coming over,
And we won’t come back till it’s over, over there!