Johnson County
by Gary Jacobson © April 2006

Song playing is "The Kentucky Waltz."



crawl for life

Iím just a poor boy from Johnson County
A bluegrass bred in the soul son of Kentucky
Born with life on the line red white and blue legacy
Bred with touchstone courage envisioning sweet liberty.

So when somebody sang the somebody done somebody wrong song
Johnson County boys answered with patriotism strong
For sweet freedom I walked the line
Fought to preserve a nation from that communist bind.

When somebody abuses the rights of others
Sons of Kentucky join hands with legions of brothers
To fight for mankind's sacred right
Unshackling chains of oppression with Kentucky might.

Men of Johnson County answered Uncle Samís call
Heard his pleading to save a nation from bitter gall.
For Johnson county men bear brave fiber of patriots
Stand ready and able to wield truthís sword zealots.

Sent so far away to fight ... perhaps to die
Oh for me, with southern sensibility, do not cry
But steel up your brave Kentucky courage
For one gone to spit in the face of warís carnage.

So I hump a klick or two in Nam's park
Dangerous each dawning day unto dark
Jousting mid jungled snares with evil incarnate
Wrestling with forces to this poor boy abominate.

Iíve traveled far away from my old Kentucky home
To a land truly fearsome, across briny foam
But men of Johnson County abide true to country
True to themselves, honoring cherished family.

Though loathsome horrors have these young eyes in war seen
Moldering cruely in jungled shadows tangled green
My brotherís blood on my hands, blown to kingdom come
Humping in luscious killing tares, heartsick and lonesome.

Oh, winds of war oíer my heart tempestuously blow
Blades of blue grass in the chaos sow
Shaking mind, body and spirit bloody and torn
Mid Namís tangled snarls of all civility shorn.

Yet Washington fat cats in callous arrogance say
Rome wasnít built in a day
By this to justify this decade long war
Taking us to die so far from American shore.

Namís great absurdity
Nagging at this innate Johnson County sensibility
Grates growing feelings in my wearied soul irksome
For breathes the fact, our fight hereís misbecome...

For in grueling months Iíve seen no plan this war to win
Kain-tuck blood in Nam's killing fields forlornly thin
Seeing brothers of the sod one-by-one fall
Pay final homage to war godís all.

I cry for humanity dissipating at the end of my gun
Staring as the lights go out, all sanity to shun
Watching a bloody pink mass leaking life before my eyes
Claiming the proclaimed victorís gory prize...

Before long, this combat veteran hears no greater call
Knowing in life and death, some die hopelessly in warís pall.
Now, this veteran of war fights only to survive
Hoping to one more day in this whirlwind dervish stay alive.

Now, my sole purpose to watch a brotherís back
To guard against men who wantonly kill in brazen attack
Survive to make it back to ďthe world,Ē
Back to gentle bluegrass fields in Kentucky dreams unfurled.

Oh, blue moon of Kentucky keep on shininí
Shine bright on my old Kentucky home for which Iím pininí
Shine on Kentucky boys steadfast as your hills of granite
Sent to fight in this southeast Asian armpit...

Oh carry me back to my beloved Johnson county
Honor my final wish to abide in serene harmony.
Lay my wartorn body Ďneath Kentucky bluegrass sod
Held in the arms now of brothers ... and God.

Oh I pray mankind will one day warís lessons learn
True fruits from past battles earn...
Turn from heat of battle to peaceful seeds sow
Sweeter peace harvest from the heart of battle grow.

muddy bloody Mekong

American dove Vietnam Poems index,
each poem with more action
graphics and Pictures

VIETNAM PICTURE TOUR from the lens of a combat infantryman
"Vietnam Picture Tour," wherein pictures tell the story of my "walk in the park" grunts call Vietnam, with the 1st Air Cavalry on combat patrol. Experience chilling reality through combat action pictures and intense poetry to leave a sweet and sour taste of "the Nam" pungent on your tongue, the smell of "the Nam" acrid in your nostrils, textures of "the Nam" imbedded in you as though you walked beside me in combat.