Pancho Villa rides to the rescue
The color line will not be drawn in this regiment
The man who stood for something
Black is not a color of the rainbow
Color, blood, and suffering have made us one
The man has kicked us right to France
Landed at Brest, right side up!
This pick and shovel work
I wish I had a brigade, yes, a division
There was nothing between the German army and Paris except my regiment
Lieutenant, you shot me! You shot a good man!
Shell-shocked, gassed, sunk to the verge of delirium.
