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The Yellow Rose of Taegu
She's the yellow rose of Taegu, the girl that I adore.
Her cunt it smells like cock juice; she's a good two-dollar whore.
You may talk to me of Seoul girls or whores from Tokyo,
But the yellow rose of Taegu beats them all, I'd have you know.
Now I was shipped to Taegu; I didn't want to go,
But the Chinks came down from 'Chuko, and I left old Tokyo.
I landed from an LOT; I was left there all alone,
But the yellow rose of Taegu made me feel right at home.
I didn't want to shoot a gun and that is certain sure.
I didn't want to go on line; I'd rather stayed with her.
They handed me an M-l; it made me nervous more.
The only person I wanted to shoot was my little Taegu whore.
She was a young and charming girl; her age was scarce sixteen.
She took me in and she kicked out a sailor and marine.
She had no titties on her chest; that didn't bother me,
For what she had between her legs was big enough for three.
She liked to play the army way; she damn near broke my back.
My thoughts turn back to her each time I have to tote my pack.
My back she broke; my prick she bent; my balls were hollow too,
But I put calloses on the cunt of my rose from old Taegu.
I don't care much for GI food, the weather or the work.
I don't care much for the Chinks; up in those hills they lurk.
I don't care much for frozen ears, the colds, the flu, the shits.
I'd trade it all for a dose of clap from the girl without any teats.
I'm going back to see her some bright and sunny day.
I'll go a-wol or on sick-call; I'll get there any way.
I'm sure to get my balls shot off if I stay here on line,
But if my rose can fuck them off, well, that'll suit me fine.
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