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Old Number Nine circa Korea Twas a dark and stormy night, not a star was there in sight All the Mustangs were tied down to the line When a lonely volunteer stood in mud up to his ear He'd orders to fly old Number Nine. Well, his back was racked with pain as he climbed into the plane A lonely tear was forming in his eye And he offered up a prayer as he climbed into the air He knew this would be his night to die. As he flew o'er Hagaru he let loose a bomb or two And he figured that he ought to call it quits But how was he to know that he's fly so doggone low That the bomb blast would blow his plane to bits. In the wreckage he was found, thinly spread around the ground The Crunchies, they raised his weary head With his lifetime almost spent here's the message that he sent To the buddies who'd be sad to see him dead. I used an eight to ten delay, but it didn't work that way Without a tail a Mustang doesn't fly Tell the Skipper now for me, he's got only twenty-three He can roll up the ladder, Semper Fi.
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