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Poetry

The Vietnam Blues

©1990 Sarge Lintecum

I wanna tell ya 'bout some blues I got one time,
In a little place called Vietnam.
Now I guess Vietnam's about as far away from here as you can get,
'Cause it didn't seem to matter which way the jet flew.
Sometimes we'd go East, sometimes West,
But no matter, twenty-two hours later,
There you are in Vietnam.

Now I did three tours over there,
Twenty-six months,
In which time I came down with malaria three times,
Jungle rot, immersion foot, two kinds of internal parasites,
Shrapnel wound in my leg,
And Agent Orange all over my body.
I'm talkin' blues now, Jack.

Well, you run into two kinds of Vietnam combat veterans;
Some can't talk about it, some can't stop.
But there's one thing we've all got in common;
Sometimes we get thinkin' 'bout the guys 'n gals
That didn't make it back,
And we come down with a real bad case,
Of the Vietnam blues.

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