The Sam Bede Blues
(c)2009 James P. Louviere
The last soldier had walked down the gangplank,
Long come Sam Bede, sweepin' the pier
And he stoops and he picks up a letter,
It look like it's stain with a tear.
It says 17 April in '71,
Somewhere in South Vietnam
And though it was wrinkled and faded,
It was written in quite a strong hand.
It said Mother, I've given my best,
I've done what they told me to do,
A soldier defending his country,
A son loving you, proud and true.
Well, the enemy, they struck us on Tuesday,
We struggled with muscles and knives,
I killed one, but he struck me - I'm dying
When you read this I won't be alive.
But remember I've died in a struggle
To keep folks like you proud and free,
And though I'll be gone when you get this
A small nation somewhere will be free!
Then the porter, looked all around in silence--
No crowdes cheers these heroes return.
The buddy who'd carried that letter so long
Thought he'd done someone a real good turn,
For he'd thrown it away, undelivered,
It's message too bitter to read,
But the Porter, he kissed those proud pages,
Cause they were from Sam Junior, to Mrs. Sam Bede!
Yes the Porter, he kissed those proud pages, from,
Sam Jr. to Mrs. Sam Bede!
Now he's gone
Now he's gone,
Now he's gone, like the rest, now he's gone
Now he's gone,
Now he's gone,
Now he's gone.
