A version of this was a favorite of Capt. Grant Hooper who commanded G Company when I joined it in November, 1943.  We sang it and sang it and sang it as we ran.  When G Co. came into the final stretch of breaking the record for the 25 mile forced march with full field equipment this song rang out as it crossed the finish line, a trooper named Glass ( just off furlough) being carried across to validate the run.  Hooper thought we  could sing, a conclusion I doubt Lou Walsh shared.  Lou was happy with another 517th record though.

The words we sang were: 

Airborne we fly the sky, Paratroopers do or die, do or die, Skeet troops like the wind we go, We're sons of guns, we're sons of guns (sometimes we're dirty bums); Can't stop those paratroops jumping down into the fray; Its not the way it used to be; A bigger and better infantry comes in by air today.

It used to be in the infantry we did nothing but march all day; Dusty guys with mud in our eyes slugging along the way; But things have changed and new we range the sky a sea of blue; We fly a bit and then we hit the silk of a parachute; Airborne we fly the skies jumping down into the fray; It's not the way it used to be; A bigger and better infantry comes in by air today.

All this is from memory.  I must say that in spite of the words of this song that seemed to relieve us of slugging along the way, we did our share of marching in training and combat--probably more than a straight leg infantry outfit that had a lot more organic transportation.

Airborne all the way,  Howard Hensleigh