Artilleri Sanger, Marsj Sanger

"A TOAST TO THE GUNS"

By them we live,
For them we would die.
Whatever the Mission,
We'll give it a try.

We'll serve them with Honor
For they are the ones;
That make us Artillerymen,
So here's to the Guns: 

TO THE GUNS!!

Hva skal vi gjøre med kanonene!

Og hva skal vi gjøre med kanonene da?
Hva skal vi gjøre med dem, hva skal vi gjøre med dem.(x2)
Jo dem skal vi skyte, jo dem skal vi skyte, jo dem skal vi skyte små fuglene med.(x2)

Og hva skal vi gjøre med små fuglene da?
Hva skal vi gjøre med dem, hva skal vi gjøre med dem.(x2)
Jo dem skal vi ribbe, jo dem skal vi ribbe, jo dem skal vi ribbe små fjærene av.(x2)

Og hva skal vi gjøre med små fjærene da?
Hva skal vi gjøre med dem, hva skal vi gjøre med dem. (x2)
Jo dem skal vi lage, jo dem skal vi lage, jo dem skal vi lage små putene av.(x2)

Og hva skal vi gjøre med små putene da?
Hva skal vi gjøre med dem, hva skal vi gjøre med dem. (x2)
Jo dem skal vi legge, jo dem skal vi legge, jo dem skal vi legge små pikene på.(x2)

Og hva skal vi gjøre med små pikene da?
Hva skal vi gjøre med dem, hva skal vi gjøre med dem. (x2)
Jo dem skal vi lage, jo dem skal vi lage, jo dem skal vi lage små guttene med.(x2)

Og hva skal vi gjøre med små guttene da?
Hva skal vi gjøre med dem, hva skal vi gjøre med dem. (x2)
Jo dem skal vi lære, jo dem skal vi lære, jo dem skal vi lære Å SKYTE MED KANON!!.(x2)

Gunner's Chant

I was born with a lanyard in my hand,
I'm a real straight shooter, I'm a gunnin' man.
They call me Cannon Cocker, and I'm number one,
I'm a '55 baby, I'm a son of a gun.

Give me a 'jo and a long tube gun,
And I'll put the enemy on the run.
Ain't nobody as bad as me,
I am the Artillery.

Artillery

Mama, oh mama, now can you see?
They put me in the Artillery.
Men of war with their heads held high,
They're ready to fight, they're willing to die.

Tell my baby to forget about me,
I've got a new lover, the Artillery.
Tell my baby not to feel blue,
Tell her to join the Artillery, too.

King of Battle

Up jumped the dusty cannoneers,
They were real mean ones, just ask their peers.
They were killers, you could see,
But they gave the battle some dignity.

They lined fifty cannons up against the hill,
Bet twenty dollars they could fire them with skill.
They fired forty-eight 'til their hands were blue,
They jumped back, did push-ups, fired the other two.

They can shoot, move, and communicate,
'Cause they're the pride of the 258.
Now their backbones are hard as rock,
They can pump projos around he clock.

Load that projo and that powder,
Make that blast sound a little louder.
In the battle all will see,
The king of battle is Field Artillery.

Up Jumped a Soldier

Up jumped a soldier from a powder pit,
Said when it comes to fighting, you know I'm fit.
He lined a hundred fighters up against a wall,
Said I bet five dollars, I can beat 'em all.

Well, heat beat ninety-seven, then he fell to one knee,
Looked around, turned around, beat the other three.
When he died, he went straight to hell,
He beat up the devil and his demons as well.

On his tombstone, written in green,
It says, "Here Lies a Hard-Chargin' Artillery Machine.

Field Artillery

M109 rolling down the trail,
Look at the enemy turning tail.
HE ICM raining down,
WP burning all around.

If these shells are not enough,
Then the artillery will have to get rough.
If the enemy wants to die,
Atomic wisdom is our reply.

Watch 109 as it fires a round,
Feel the impact shake the ground.
Suppression, destruction, obscuration, too,
There isn't much that we can't do.

It's our preps and deadly fire,
That is maneuvers great desire.
Mixed with infantry, planes and tanks,
We're the punch in the combined arms ranks.

Redleg Running Song

Do your job now, do it right.
You'll go home, see Momma tonight.
Mess around, don't do your work.
Call you in, call you a jerk.
Artillery is the branch for me,
Other guys go infantry.
Grunts walk hard and they walk far,
In Artillery we ride by car.
Gunner, A.G., Number One,
All Cannoneers, we all like guns.
Close the breech and pull the string,
Man the '55 sure can sing,
F.O. says first rounds look bad,
Check your sights, see what you had.
FDC will slip their sticks,
Two more rounds now, make it quick.
F.O. says those rounds were close,
Six more rounds we'll drink a toast.
FDC sends a new QE,
Fire for effect with the Battery.
F.O. says those rounds were fine,
Let's go home and drink some wine.
155 going down the range,
Red hot steel makes you feel strange.
Hit you high and hit you low,
Try to hide, ain't no where to go.
Here we go, all the way,
All the way, Redleg...

Hold it High

Lift your head and hold it high,
The king of battle is passing by.

We're the best that can be found,
the 258 has come to town.

The infantry is looking blue,
They wish they were Artillery too.

Whenever the tankers get in trouble,
The Artillery's there on the double.

The Cav is always in a fix,
'Til the Artillery comes and saves their necks.

Enemy thinks they'll take us for a ride,
But they can kiss their lives good-bye.

Finer soldiers you'll never see,
For we are the Field Artillery.

Grunts and Tanks might be fun,
But the Artillery is number one.

Forward Observer's Lament

You climb up the mountain in the rain.
You study the map and then the terrain,
All you see is the rain and the mud,
The radio's dead and the first round's a dud.