Things aren't the same as they used to be
For us, or the rest of the family;
And although to you it might sound strange-
Take me, my love, to the gunnery range.
Load up our ammo; there's no need to spend
Cause I've got some business I need to attend;
And nothing there will be out of our range-
Take me, my love, to the gunnery range.
It's all so calm there, and serious;
Why we don't go more often's quite curious;
We can shoulder our rifles, and blow out our rage-
Take me, my love, to the gunnery range.
When I've got good aim, and can hit the stray dot;
And don't have to use up ten quarts of shot,
I'm going to go, and take care of some things-
But I'll always come back, to the gunnery range.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem