Up in the hills of Deutschland,
Grafenwöhr is the spot,
There is no room for air force,
In the land that God forgot,
Out in the sun with a rifle,
Down in a tent with the dust,
Trying to clean a BAR,
Already covered with rust,
We train all day in rain or dust,
Sleep in muddy holes at night,
We are told that this will teach us how to fight,
We are soldiers in the Army,
And in a Foreign Land,
Back home we are soon forgotten,
We belong to Uncle Sam,
But on that day we stand before those pearly Gates we hear tell,
St. Peter will say,
Come in Boys from Grafenwöhr,
You served your Hitch in Hell.
















Comments
--
René Brals is my name. making idiot comments is my game.
WATCH MY GALLERY OR I'LL EAT YOUR BRAINS LIKE IF THEY WERE POPCORN GGRRRRRR
[link]
I EAT GIGA-BYTE'S FOR BREAKFAST
Previous PageNext Page