Amidst the blistering Jungle lands of an Oriental Race--
In Viet Nam, Cambodia; they're a far and distant place--
Is a group of young Americans Fighting in the heat,
Their lips are cracked, their joints are sore, they have jungle rot on their feet.

Their president said, "Go fight, young men, and make the whole world free,
Go fight and die for the stars and bars, blowing in the breeze;
We'll send you over, then bring you back safe and sound,
But if you die, we'll bury you in military ground."

So the ships and planes departed to traverse them to that land,
The only thing protecting them was God's mighty hand;
Twenty-three days over, and they landed at Bien Hoa,
And off the ships debarked some five thousand boys.

They were soon shipped out to Truang Luang to fight the enemy,
Their clothes were new, their faces shaved, as though going on a spree;
Ten weeks later they returned from fighting hand to hand,
Among the boys there was nary a one who hadn't become a man.

Fifteen hundred men returned from where five thousand boys had gone,
The oceanic telegraph begin its deadly song
To families waiting anxiously to hear from their sons so dear,
But only to receive the last remains of their brave American Soldier.

Now, in Every major city, protest marches rise,
To get out of Viet Nam and to save our soldiers' lives;
But, this call our government does not hear nor heed,
Only urges on our homesick boys to a meaningless victory.

Copyright © 1969 By Bill Hagee, All Rights Reserved

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