Twas The Night Before Christmas
By Robert Lafond
Memories...some are nice, some are not
Some are cold and some are hot.
Your heart keeps beat to the rotors
and you pray they never stop.
My '60's loaded with 3 + 1
And the tracers tell the tale
Of Charlie's fate, my enemy hate
And the memories never fail.
They bring me back to the living hell
When do I get off?
I'm tired of War and the swinging door
I'de rather drink from the well.