To the tune of “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys”
Soldiers they tell us are serving our nation,
But their world is one brimming with sexual predation
With long separations in tours overseas
With no rudder for the right way
If you don’t look out when he’s all liquored up,
There might be the devil to pay.
Mamas, don’t let your daughters grow up to be soldiers.
Don’t let ‘em dig foxholes and thrust bayonets.
Don’t let ‘em live lives that are full of regrets.
Mamas, don’t let your daughters grow up to be soldiers,
‘Cause it’ll make ‘em real coarse, more prone to divorce
And generally, just preyed upon.
Feminists will tell them they’re making a statement for equality,
But statements are no substitute for what’s more natural to be.
What you don’t know can sure hurt you and mistakes you make
When young can hurt for a long time.
Beware the siren’s song and those who don’t know right from wrong.
That bed you lie in should be well made.
Mamas, don’t let your daughters grow up to be soldiers.
Don’t let ‘em dig foxholes and thrust bayonets.
Don’t let ‘em live lives that are full of regrets.
Mamas, don’t let your daughters grow up to be soldiers,
‘Cause it’ll make ‘em real coarse, more prone to divorce
And generally just preyed upon.
[…] “Mama, Don’t Let Your Daughters Grow Up to Be Soldiers“ […]
Great poetry as usual. Fits the same theme as the song from which it is taken. Either way, women should not fill police, military, or other professions that belong to masculine outlook. Women make terrible police, as I can attest to first-hand, unfortunately for me and anyone else who falls into their trigger-happy bullying. And as Dave points out, it is even more destructive to the woman doing the man’s job. It’s the opposite of what women were designed to be, or even most men for that matter. I wouldn’t want any of my children in the military, male or female — or as police either. Police are a brotherhood, usually a Freemasonic brotherhood, which is Satanic in itself. Not to say we could get along without police or military.
Country Western music was made for Dave Martin’s poetry! I’d never know these great songs if it weren’t for Dave — same message, different audience.
Here’s one for the Creeper:
Hey Joe, where you goin’ with that gaffe in your hand? (x2)
I’m goin’ down to sputter and blubber in a way nobody will understand.
Hey Joe, I hear you like to feel little girls with your hand. (x2)
Yes that’s true, and I do it whenever I can.
Hey Joe, you named Kamala as your veep (x2)
Yes I did, she can run things while I sleep and sleep.
Hey Joe, if I rub your legs, do you care? (x2)
Not at all, it’ll raise those golden hairs