Saw Vietnam as a partisan and wished I`d never been As I held the rope on through the scope I wish I`d never seen Where the air turned red as the bodies bled into a schoolboy`s dream But who were there could only stare into this wondrous scene
Yankee, to war Yankee, head high, Yankee, in call Yankee, we cry.
In Germany in the `45, my mind was on the altar Thought of God the Iron Rod and thought that needed shelter From `Tragen` pain and men insane and eyes that got much colder Saw a German son with a Yankee gun and a uniform much older
Yankee, to war Yankee, head high, Yankee, in call Yankee, we cry.
Working for the Yankee Dollar Working for the Yankee Dollar
Processions bear that human flare which mark a hero`s welcome For those dead and for those shed it was a big occasion And all flags and Yankee mags which embroidered all the meaning In an oversight, forgot the fight, which never bore elation
Yankee, to war Yankee, head high, Yankee, in call Yankee, we cry.
Working for the Yankee Dollar Working for the Yankee Dollar
