Way aways back in the gritty year of nineteen and fifty-one,
We had a Conflict called Ko-re-a that turned out to be a big ‘un.
I was a pimply pup, a high school punk in just my junior year
But I knew my patriotic duty to stand up and volunteer.
If we did not stop them, those Commie rats could go on
To sweep over Seoul and to inch over Inchon.
So, hey, joining the Navy was the right thing to do,
And that’s how I eventually got over to ol’ Point Mugu.
It was there on that beat that I met Pismo Pete
Who turned out to be the craziest man on the street.
His hair was pointy in front and a ducks ass behind
A skinny runt who could drink the rest of us blind.
One night on liberty down at Hennesey’s Bar
A bunch of us gobbies went somewhat too far;
Got roaring shitface and became a total disgrace,
Completely lost face and then tore up the place.
When the Shore Patrol came to see who’d be locked up,
Sure it was that Pismo Pete was the most fucked-up.
He raved and moaned, and leaked from every hole;
He jerked and groaned, a man who’d lost his soul.
After that he missed muster for ten days straight,
We heard he was in sick bay on a Section Eight.
That’s when you’re so crazy they let you go free,
Better a loony civilian than a dingbat swabbie.