"And remember, as long as we can ..."
Memorial Day
The Jungles of South Vietnam
When only a boy I went down to the sea,
and returned home to Nevada a man.
Too many young lads were unlike me,
and went instead to the jungles of South Vietnam
Now I know for sure that times are tough,
it’s hard for you to make your stand.
Times might be tough today, and that's no bull.
But, not as tough as the jungles of South Vietnam.
You see, the sergeants would call out, for a reservist up front,
for it was he always chosen to be the man.
To go down first, into the V. C. holes,
that snaked below the jungles of South Vietnam.
As nightfall stole forth, with Claymore’s set,
a cold meal straight from a C-rat can.
Raindrops filling the darkness with sound.
Few slept well in the jungles of South Vietnam.
Now twigs don’t snap when it’s rained for a week,
and you can’t see any further than your hand.
But all at once, you’re suddenly aware,
you’re not alone in the jungles of South Vietnam.
Fifty-eight thousand was the final count
of fallen brothers black, yellow, and tan.
Who found too soon everlasting sleep,
far away in the jungles of South Vietnam.
So, let’s raise up our glass and drink a toast,
and remember, as long as we can.
Those who gave up their lives for nothing at all,
In the distant green jungles of South Vietnam