If you sing this song and are willing to talk of where & when you
learned it, please email me at
or call me at 314-690-1414. Thanks!
- Thunderthud
(Irv Levine Korat-1968)
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- Oh hallelujah, hallelujah, throw a nickle on the grass,
Save a fighter pilot's ass. Hallelujah, hallelujah. Throw a nickel on the grass and you'll be saved.
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- Oh it's heavy as heavy and you'll curse it like a cob,
It ain't no dinky sports car, it's built to do the job. While the (F4s) others cry for Jollies to come and pick them up, It's the One-Oh-Five that brought you to a cool one in the club.
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- So hallelujah, hallelujah, throw a nickel on the grass,
Save a fighter pilot's ass. Hallelujah, hallelujah. Throw a nickel on the grass a you'll be saved.
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- Oh the F4 jocks are brazen, they're balls are made of brass,
They're shit hot and they'll tell you they're in a special class, But let the bastards take one, to head them for the trees, Then it's Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, won't you save me please.
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- Oh hallelujah, hallelujah, throw a nickel on the grass,
Save a fighter pilot's ass. Hallelujah, hallelujah. Throw a nickel on the grass and you'll be saved.
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- Oh you say you fly up yonder and you're not afraid of flak,
You sail through hell of SAMs and MiGs, you're a mighty scrappy chap. You're shit hot and you know it, but the truth it is my friend, It's the One-Oh-Five that took you there and brought you back again.
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- So hallelujah, hallelujah, throw a nickel on the grass,
Save a fighter pilot's ass. Hallelujah, hallelujah. Throw a nickel on the grass and you'll be saved.
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- So don't you growl and grumble like a dog without a bone,
It's the one bird in the whole damn war that's built to bring you home, While the others stayed below the Red, you risked you ass and blood so don't forget what took you there, the good old Thunderthud.
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- So hallelujah, hallelujah, throw a nickel on the grass,
Save a fighter pilot's ass. Hallelujah, hallelujah. Throw a nickel on the grass and you'll be saved.
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- At last you did your hundred and now you're headed home,
Remember you were king up there while on that thunder throne, With your hand upon its throttle, you're in a separate class, You're a fighter-bomber pilot, let the others kiss your ass.
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- So hallelujah, hallelujah, throw a nickel on the grass,
Save a fighter pilot's ass. Hallelujah, hallelujah. Throw a nickel on the grass and you'll be saved.
To order this and the other Border City Records CDs, please email
bordercityrecord@aol.com
- Various
Artists
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Songs from Korat RTAFB
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