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."
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday 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.
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."
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday 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.
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."
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday 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.
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."
Someday I'm going to murder the bugler.
Someday 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.
envoyé par Bartleby - 12/4/2012 - 09:14
Langue: anglais
Versione estesa della canzone trovata su FirstWorldWar
OH, HOW I HATE TO GET UP IN THE MORNING
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:
"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."
"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."
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.
"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."
"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."
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:
"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."
"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."
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.
"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."
"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."
envoyé par Bartleby - 12/4/2012 - 09:27
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Una delle prime canzoni scritte da questo grandissimo compositore americano di origine russa.
Testo trovato su WWII In American Music
Come moltissimi altri sudditi di religione ebraica dell’Impero Russo, anche la famiglia di Irving Berlin emigrò negli USA nel 1893 in ragione della miseria e anche dei progrom antisemiti che all’epoca erano all’ordine del giorno da quelle parti.
Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning
Nel 1918 Irving ottenne la cittadinanza statunitense ma, purtroppo per lui, ciò coincise con la sua chiamata alle armi. Per fortuna la guerra volgeva al termine e Berlin scampò alle trincee d’Europa.
Tuttavia visse quel breve periodo da soldato con grande insofferenza verso le odiose ed assurde regole della vita militare, in particolar modo l’atroce sveglia all’alba a suon di tromba su cui scrisse questo allegro foxtrot molto apprezzato fra le truppe anche in seguito, durante la seconda guerra mondiale.
C’è poi un episodio in specifico che ispirò a Berlin la scrittura del brano: un colonnello ebbe la pessima idea di far suonare ai trombettieri un pezzo patriottico molto popolare all’epoca, "Over There" di George M. Cohan's… I poveretti, un po’ perché negati, un po’ per la limitatezza del loro strumento, diedero il tormento ai loro commilitoni esercitandosi continuamente ad eseguire il brano richiesto dall’ufficiale… Il grande orecchio musicale di Berlin dovette risentirne in modo particolare, tanto da arrivare ad invocare la soppressione di tutti i trombettieri!
C’è inoltre da dire che Berlin già all’epoca componeva a spron battuto, e fino alle prime ore del mattino, per cui la sveglia all’alba doveva essere per lui una vera e propria tortura. Per sua fortuna l’esercito si accorse subito del suo talento e lo incaricò di alcuni progetti per la raccolta di fondi, dispensandolo dal terribile “reveille”
“There were a lot of things about army life I didn't like, and the thing I didn't like most of all was reveille” (Irving Berlin, citato in “America's Songs: The Stories Behind the Songs of Broadway, Hollywood, and Tin Pan Alley”, di Philip Furia, Michael Lasser, 2006)
“Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning” fu inclusa in alcune riviste di Broadway, come “Yip Yip Yaphank” e “Ziegfeld Follies” (1918) e “This Is the Army” (1942). (fonte: en.wikipedia)