Fly me somewheres north of Soc Trang,
where they are having quite a fight,
and the Vee Cee come a-sneaking
from the jungle in the night.
Arm my helo with guns and rockets -
leave behind the rice and pigs -
for today we go for glory, boys -
we're gonna shoot some MIGs!
Hear the motor straining, boys -
we'll surely pop this rig,
but who gives a damn, boys -
we're gonna get a MIG!
They took off from DaNang Field
and headed across the bay.
No fear they held, no thought of death.
Just one thought - to be an ace today.
Across the flooded rice fields,
over jungles green and still,
straight as an arrow the heroes flew
northward to find a MIG to kill.
He scanned above, he looked below,
'til late the hour, 'til darkness neared,
then turned, disappointed, southward,
for not a single MIG appeared.
"My pods are full of rockets
and there'r bullets in my guns.
I ain't done a-huntin' yet -
I'm gonna have my fun."
He spotted something in the distance,
but now he's low on gas.
"'Tis my only chance for glory -
I've got time for just one pass!"
He lined the specks on the crosshair.
His iron finger began to itch.
"Now I have 'em where I want 'em -
I'll kill the sons of bitch!"
Banking left, rolling right,
now he's got them on the mark.
The rockets flew out like thunder -
the guns began to bark!
"Talley ho! Talley ho!", he cried -
his wingman did the same -
for his guns and rockets found
their mark, his score, his claim.
At five he shot, and five went down -
not though the swept-winged MIGs.
Down to gory death he flamed
five no longer squealing pigs.
