Gather round on ma’s knee,
To read this weeks letter.
I wonder what will be,
We hope the news is better.
The men here die like flies ma,
I bandaged their blinded eyes ma,
And the kids with their aching feet
Aint got nothing to eat ma.
The hospital has no door dad,
Soldiers lie on the floor dad,
Oh I did my best,
But I cant take anymore dad
Rachel’s Coming Home
Rachel’s coming home
Oh and i don’t think She’ll go away a gain
Rachel’s seen the light
World too big to fight
And I don’t think she’ll go away again
My dear family
The world and people in it
Go the way they will
But there is not a man
Black or White
Who can never hope
To stop them
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing-out parade at Puckapunyal
It was a long march from cadets.
The sixth battalion was the next to tour, and it was me who drew the card.
We did Canungra, Shoalwater before we left.
And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean.
And there’s me in my slouch hat with my SLR and greens.
God help me, I was only nineteen.
From Vung Tau, riding Chinooks, to the dust at Nui Dat
I’d been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pinups on the lockers
And an Agent Orange sunset through the scrub.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I stil can’t get to sleep?
And night-time’s just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what’s this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only ninteen.
A four week operation when each step could mean your last one on two legs
It was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn’t let your mates down til they had you dusted off
So you closed your eyes and thought about something else.
Then someone yelled “Contact!” and the bloke behind me swore
We hooked in there for hours, then a Godalmighty roar
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon,
God help me, he was going home in June.
I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
On a thirty-six hour rec leave in Vung Tau
And I can still hear Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle
Til the morphine came and killed the bloody row.
And the Anzac legends didn’t mention mud and blood and tears
And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real.
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn’t even feel
God help me, I was only nineteen.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can’t get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what’s this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.
What’s funny is nobody will admit they ever supported the Vietnam War nowadays.
In another twenty years, we’re going to have a lot of Regressives refusing to admit they endorsed a whole book full of failed policies. I say we keep good records and mail them to their grandkids.
“Grandpa? Why were you such a ignorant douchebag?” Ha ha ha!
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“..they’re still there, he’s all gone….”
WHAT is it Good For?!
Even the word still twists my gut… So many died and for what?
Gather round on ma’s knee,
To read this weeks letter.
I wonder what will be,
We hope the news is better.
The men here die like flies ma,
I bandaged their blinded eyes ma,
And the kids with their aching feet
Aint got nothing to eat ma.
The hospital has no door dad,
Soldiers lie on the floor dad,
Oh I did my best,
But I cant take anymore dad
Rachel’s Coming Home
Rachel’s coming home
Oh and i don’t think She’ll go away a gain
Rachel’s seen the light
World too big to fight
And I don’t think she’ll go away again
My dear family
The world and people in it
Go the way they will
But there is not a man
Black or White
Who can never hope
To stop them
Chorus
this may sound cold.
But FUCK the war. Fuck the Army. Fuck the Government.
Who’s Freedom is being defended. Are the vietnamese here telling me what I can or can’t do.
Fuck all of it.
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing-out parade at Puckapunyal
It was a long march from cadets.
The sixth battalion was the next to tour, and it was me who drew the card.
We did Canungra, Shoalwater before we left.
And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean.
And there’s me in my slouch hat with my SLR and greens.
God help me, I was only nineteen.
From Vung Tau, riding Chinooks, to the dust at Nui Dat
I’d been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pinups on the lockers
And an Agent Orange sunset through the scrub.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I stil can’t get to sleep?
And night-time’s just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what’s this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only ninteen.
A four week operation when each step could mean your last one on two legs
It was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn’t let your mates down til they had you dusted off
So you closed your eyes and thought about something else.
Then someone yelled “Contact!” and the bloke behind me swore
We hooked in there for hours, then a Godalmighty roar
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon,
God help me, he was going home in June.
I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
On a thirty-six hour rec leave in Vung Tau
And I can still hear Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle
Til the morphine came and killed the bloody row.
And the Anzac legends didn’t mention mud and blood and tears
And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real.
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn’t even feel
God help me, I was only nineteen.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can’t get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what’s this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.
Hi ya Roscoe!!!
I think the next song will go like this(if we elect a Republican)……
And it’s one, two, three,
what are we fighting for?
Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn,
next stop will be Iran.
What’s funny is nobody will admit they ever supported the Vietnam War nowadays.
In another twenty years, we’re going to have a lot of Regressives refusing to admit they endorsed a whole book full of failed policies. I say we keep good records and mail them to their grandkids.
“Grandpa? Why were you such a ignorant douchebag?” Ha ha ha!