Ballad of the M I Soldier
[tune of "Ballad of the Green Berets"]
Fighting soldiers of M I,
Air-conditioned or we'll cry,
Got radios to spread the news,
Ice-cold beer to chase the blues.
At Huachuca they learn their trade,
M I soldiers have it made,
One hundred men will test today,
And none will fail -- it's the M I way!
A word-processor is our mighty sword,
With this we'll fight -- oh thank the Lord!
No M-16's within our ranks,
No hand grenades, no noisy tanks.
Time to take a PT Test,
Do it all while at their desk,
Push-ups, sit-ups, two mile run,
Max it all with just their thumb!
M I men at fighting peak,
Six hours a day, four days a week,
Cocktail parties on Saturday --
You can keep your green beret!
No silver wings upon their chest,
They may not be America's best,
But see them when they're sixty-five,
Maybe drunk, but still alive!
Time to go out to the field,
No wimping out, their fate is sealed,
Poggy-bait; TVs to view,
Cammo clashes with M I blue.
Back at home a young wife waits,
Her M I man has met his fate,
In the field he was too bold,
Fell victim to a bad chest cold.
The fighting soldier's of M I,
The rest of the Army just asks "Why?"
But within our ranks there is a cheer,
as we voucher-off our Redtrain Beer.
"Always out Front" is on their crest,
But that was penned just as a jest,
A better motto is offered here:
"We're in the Rear, with All the Gear!"