Gimme 'n F


“Gimme ‘n F” the spruiker cried,
“gimme a U” and crowd near died,
They knew before he came
To, Whatzat spell? Whatzat spell?
They knew his game, or thought they knew,
But he threw a sinking curve,
A gentle lob that bobbed just short;
“gimme ‘n E, gimme ‘n L,
Whatzat spell? Whatzat spell?”
He was no fool, he played them well,
And he ran the telling rhyme,
“Now come on over to Iraq ‘n Iran,
Come on over ‘n get in the game,
Things just ain’t gonna be the same
Until you’ve done your deed for Uncle Sam.”
He paid respects correct and due
To Country Joe and the Fish
Whose, ‘I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag’
Was kitsch before he was even born,
A thorn directly in the side of the crazy gang
Who sold a generation into trauma and misery,
Ostensibly to free Vietnam from tyranny,
The question was whose, and who had to
Loose? So the game’s the same
But the names have changed, and we need
Our team back out on the park.
This time we wont bark at the boys
In cams, the felons wear suits.


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Gimme 'n F