Talk of Ukraine’s draft dredged up this from the Oligocene and my days as a tadpole. Certainly the earback-dry crowd will remember this, even though I’ve changed the lyrics enough to protect the innocent…and perhaps me from buck-nekkid plagiarism*.
Besides, the words and meter are so beautifully written, I am fairly sure that those who are too young ever to have been exposed to it will nonetheless find it easy to move with its flow.
I'm just a typical Ukrainian boy
From a typical Ukrainian town
I believe in God and President Volod
And puttin' old Putin down
And when it came my time to serve
I knew "better dead than red"
But when I got to my old draft board
This is what I said
Sarge, I'm only eighteen, I got a ruptured spleen
And I always carry a purse
I got eyes like a bat and my feet are flat
And my asthma's getting worse
Sarge, think of my career, my sweetheart dear
And my poor old invalid aunt
Besides I ain't no fool, I'm going to school
And I'm working in a defense plant
I've got a dislocated disc and a wracked up back
I'm allergic to flowers and bugs
And when the bombshell hits I get epileptic fits
And I'm addicted to a thousand drugs
I got the weakness woes, I can't touch my toes
I can hardly reach my knees
And if the enemy came close to me
I'd probably start to sneeze
I hate Putin’s lies, and I hope he dies
But the thing I'm hoping you'll see
Is that someone's gotta serve on the front
But that someone isn't me
So I wish you well, Sarge, give 'em hell, yeah
Kill me a thousand or so
And if you ever get a war without blood and gore
I'll be the first to go!
*Besides, I’m 1/3 of the population of PAXSON! That must count…for something!