First you tell your draft board you're hooked on dope.
You don't need the army 'cause you've seen Bob Hope.
Walk around the floor kinda nice and loose.
Tell 'em your fiancee's name is Bruce.
When they ask about your schooling, then you say
That you studied under Cassius Clay.
Then put some lipstick on when you're photographed,
And that's what I call dodging the draft!
Then you show the captain a note from mom,
Stand there while he reads it and suck your thumb.
When he takes your family history, state with pride,
"Benedict Arnold was on my father's side."
He'll hand you an IQ test, just look at it with gloom,
Then fold it like an airplane and sail it 'cross the room.
If they believe you don't know your fore from your aft,
That's what I call...shirking your military responsibility.
Clump around the floor like your feet are flat.
When they ask about your hearing, just say, "How's that?"
If the sergeant wants a cigarette, treat him right,
Set fire to your draft card, and offer him a light.
When you see the eyechart, don't worry at all.
Say, "I'll be glad to read it, just point me at the wall."
And if the draft board acts in the usual way,
You'll be what I call 1-A.
