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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!"





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