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beside a Korean waterfall,
one bright and sunny day
beside a shattered bomber plane,
a poor young pilot lay
his parachute hung from a tree,
but he was not yet dead
and as they gathered 'round him,
these were the words he said
"I'm going to that better land,
where the motors always roar
where the eggnogs grow on eggplants in the Quartermaster's store
where there aren't no Interceptors and no enemies around
there'll be apple pie and rock'n'rye
and the pilots go there when they die
in the Army/AirForce heaven"
the pilot lay beside the falls,
as the medics clustered 'round
and he said "it's such a lovely place; that's where I am bound"
a crankshaft in his liver and a sparkplug on his nose
he said "I'm flying fast, my friends, to where every pilot goes"
"I'm going to that better land,
where the Airmen rise in style
where the automatic pilot works and we sit back and smile
there's a girl for every Officer, a dozen for the crew
there'll be beds of hay in the old bomb bay
and the boys will shout out 'Bombs away'
in the Army/AirForce heaven"
his breath came fast,
he couldn't last, with sadness they all eyed him
the medics wept,
the tears rolled down,
the pools flowed down beside him
the waters rose,
they reached his toes,
he floated where he lay
and as he drifted out of sight,
his comrades heard him say
"I'm going to that better land, where the flak don't never fly
where bullets are all cotton and the shells are apple pie
where the clouds are champagne cocktails and you drink them on the fly
well, it's time to leave, don't you grieve
I'll be wearing wings on my leather sleeve
in the Army/AirForce heaven"
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