Don't Tread On Me (Harlem Hellfighters)

My name is private Johnson, I'm from AEF

The 369th Infantry Regiment

From Harlem to France, from ghetto to trench

And honestly, here's not much difference

May 15th, an enemy patrol around twenty huns

Me and a box of grenades

I threw it all then took up my rifle, c'mon

191 days under fire, never retire

Men of Bronze go forward or die

Hold one's ground that's why they call us Hellfighters

God knows I give as good as I got

The fucking Labelle had a magazine clip

Of just three rounds and I fired it all

There was no time for reloading

I swung my rifle and brought it down

With a thrown blow upon the enemy's head

He went down crying and close-in fighting began

I stabbed one Jerry in the stomach

Felled a lieutenant and took a pistol shot in my arm

Before driving his knife between the ribs

Of a soldier who had climbed on my back

I killed four boches and wounded maybe ten

Or maybe five more can't count it well

The only weapon left is my bolo knife

So I climbed up from the ground and charged, hacking away at the foes

There wasn't anything so fine about it

Just fought for my life

A rabbit would have done that