"Oh, How I Hate To Get Up In The Morning"

Dedicated to my friend "Private Howard Friend" who
occupies the cot next to mine and feels as I do
about the "bugler."
By Irving Berlin, 1888-1989

Published: 1918, Waterson, Berlin & Snyder, Strand Theatre Bldg., Broadway at 47th St., New York

Note about the author: Irving Berlin was drafted in the 77th Division, U.S. Army in April 1917 at the age of 25. By this time Berlin, a resident of New York, was already a famous composer. While in the Army, stationed at Camp Upton, Long Island, Berlin continued his trade after being asked to produce a "soldier's show" at the U.S.Army's expense.  The show was a hit not only with the soldiers but went on to Broadway. The song portrayed here, "Oh, How I Hate To Get Up In the Morning" was a blockbuster, selling 1,500,000 copies and generating $80,000-$150,000 for the Army.  

Berlin's real name was Israel Baline, the youngest child of Moses and Lena Baline of eastern Russia (Tolochin, Byelorussia according to some accounts). The family came to America in 1893 when Berlin was age 5 (born May 11, 1888). By the age of 8, after his father's death, it was necessary for him to begin work in the streets to help support his family. In 1913, he married Dorothy Goetz but she died the following year of typhoid. In 1926 he married Ellin Mackay from which were born three daughters.

Berlin's long career of writing music (over 600 songs) produced a number of hits, including: "God Bless America" (1939), and "This is the Army" earned $10 million for the Army in World War II. 

He died in Sept 22, 1989 in New York City at the age of 101. His World War I uniform is on display at the Jewish War Veterans Museum in Washington, D.C.

MIDI file courtesy Benjamin Tubb

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Verse1:

The other day I chanced to meet a soldier friend of mine,
He’d been in camp for sev’ral weeks and he was looking fine;
His muscles had developed and his cheeks were rosy red,
I asked him how he liked the life, and this is what he said:


CHORUS 1:

“Oh! how I hate to get up in the morning,
Oh! how I’d love to remain in bed;
For the hardest blow of all, is to hear the bugler call;
You’ve got to get up, you’ve got to get up, you’ve got to get up this morning!
Some day I’m going to murder the bugler,
Some day they’re going to find him dead;
I’ll amputate his reveille, and step upon it heavily,
And spend the rest of my life in bed.”

CHORUS 2:

“Oh! how I hate to get up in the morning,
Oh! how I’d love to remain in bed;
For the hardest blow of all, is to hear the bugler call;
You’ve got to get up, you’ve got to get up, you’ve got to get up this morning!
Oh! boy the minute the battle is over,
Oh! boy the minute the foe is dead;
I'll put my uniform away, and move to Philadelphia,
And spend the rest of my life in bed.”

Verse 2:

A bugler in the army is the luckiest of men,
He wakes the boys at five and then goes back to bed again;
He doesn’t have to blow again until the afternoon,
If ev’ry thing goes well with me I'll be a bugler soon.

(CHORUS 1)
(CHORUS 2)

For more music of the 19th and 20th Centuries, visit http://pdmusic.org/


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