Marauder
When learning to fly the Marauder
He heard many wonderful things
But all he could see was the engines
Oh, where in the hell are the wings?!
Why did I join the Air Corps
For mother, dear mother, knew best
Here I lie beneath the wreckage
Marauder all over my chest
Now Curtiss causes our troubles
That prop is a murder machine
When they both run away on takeoff
Nothing is left to be seen
Roaring off down the runway
In his mind was a horrible doubt
As the co-pilot jerked all the wheels up
Both lousy engines cut out
While looking down on a rooftop
A pretty young chick he did see
He dived down to look at her closer
And clipped off the top of a tree
Now, buzzing he did for a pastime
He roared through the farmer's front yard
He waved at the girl on the doorstep
Smacked into the silo, real hard
Take the cylinders out of my backbone
Connecting rods out of my brain
From my heart and my lungs take the crankshaft
And assemble the engines again
Now the pilot of a Marauder
He's a man with plenty of guts
But after he's flown a few missions
He's either shot down or he's nuts
Now, if you fly a pea-shooter
Or a plane of similar ilk
And if you get into trouble
Why hell, there's no crew; hit the silk
When you go out on a mission
And a 109 fires on a pass
Roll back your seat and start jumping
To hell with the crew, save your ass
Though the heavies are very big boxcars
Compared to Marauder they're toys
The B-26 is the airplane
That separates the men from the boys
A Lib is an overgrown junk pile
Known as the worst of them all
They scatter their bombs with abandon
And don't give a damn where they fall
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Arrangement Copyright © 1997 Dick Jonas. All rights reserved. Lyrics by Lt Jim W. Baugh and Lt Raymond P. Flanagan, 432nd Bomb Sqdn, 17th Bomb Gp, 1st Tactical Air Force (WWII); arrangement by Dick Jonas; Air Force traditional, via Bill Getz in "The Wild Blue Yonder"