She's battle scarred from nose to stern,
At times her props too tired to turn;
The guns are worn that're in the chin,
Fighting the life of "Fools Rush In."
The glass is scratched and not
intact,
From the overpounding, Smoky Flak;
Cutting the metal in strips so thin,
Destroying the beauty of "Fools Rush In."
The olive drab is beginning to
fade
Losing her color, shade by shade,
Of course her body is only tin,
Revealing the Flesh of "Fools Rush In,"
The dorsal fin that stands so
well,
Carrying the scars of Cannon Shell;
And above the waist that I am in,
There's another hole in, old Fools Rush In."
The Tokyo tanks, are forever
full,
For the longest missions she always pulls,
Poland, Brunswick, and Berlin,
But she's always back, old "Fools Rush In,"
Sometimes an engine or two we
feather,
But Skipper smiles and observes the weather,
Touching the ground the begin to spin,
Home once more in "Fools Rush In."
Not one abortion, to her name
has she,
And so very proud of this are we,
Why to break this record would be a sin,
And blacken the name of "Fools Rush In."
Forty and ten is the total
score,
Good for a hundred or maybe more,
Fifty missions will only begin,
The adventurous life of "Fools Rush In."
Swastika stickers strewn all
over the nose,
Dealing them death, with mighty blows,
Credit all claimed by the fighting men,
Who fly the ship ole "Fools Rush In."
Skipper is tender, he handles
her mild,
At times you'd think she was only a child,
He loves that girl as we have him,
Who pilots us home, in "Fools Rush In."
Oh God let her see Germany
fall,
For many a day she's answered the call,
Tokyo's streets will see us then,
The fighting life of "Fools Rush In." |