BRUCE AND ME

By: Sarge Lintecum
Copyright © 1992, 1998

Bruce, and me are buddies,
And, Bruce, he likes to fly,
He steps right out of airplanes
When they're way up in the sky.

Bruce, and me are combat vets,
We fought in Vietnam,
And somehow we're both still alive
After parachutes, bullets, and bombs.

Now, Bruce, sometimes gets grounded,
For waiting much too long,
Before he pulls his rip-cord
The ground's his Viet Cong.

Once, Bruce, and me went flyin'
From thirteen thousand feet.
Last time I jumped a rice paddy
Was first to meet my feet.

Since I hadn't jumped in twenty-six years
They strapped me to a pro,
So we would jump in-tandem
When the pilot hollered go.

I rolled right out the doorway,
Bruce, and me were supposed to meet,
But, his glove hung-up on the airplane
So he dove four thousand feet.

Then there he was right with us,
Like Superman he came.
Grins and salutes we traded,
'Cause life is just a game.

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