Sidi Slimane 
Air Force!
now gather 'round closely, I'll sing this refrain
about life in Morocco, here at Sidi Slimane
there's not enough women, to grace this bare land
but there's plenty of flea-bites of dungheaps & sand
the heat in the daytime will wither your soul
& through the long evenings, you will shiver with cold
it's so dirty & sticky, with the heat & the smell
you'll think you've been buried, & you've gone straight to hell
each pilot then swears he has been wrongly assigned
& the AirForce Commander has gone out of his mind
while he sits there a sweating, wond'ring why he is here
the salt from his teardrops, makes his whiskey taste queer
& the boys you will notice, who take it so hard
are the recalled Reservists & the Air National Guard
but with all of their whining, there's one thing that's clear
sure it's rough in Morocco, but it's death in Korea
Air Force!
want to buy a discharge, mister?
