Out in the country just ten miles from town;
A part of Ft. Carson is tumbling down.
Built back in ‘forty for mules not for men;
The ‘RED DEVILS’ moved out and the Medics moved in.
Someone please thank those wonderful souls
For being so generous to give us this HOLE.
For so many things they left without charge
The mud in the barracks; the sludge in the yard,
The rocks in the path, the sludge in the street,
KP with ‘ole Barta just three times a week.
Now I’m not complaining so don’t take me wrong
I’ve got CHANCE and not CHOICE so no matter how long:
If these MULE BARNS need cleaning I’ll stick to my song;
What’s this stuff I’m sweeping; is it ding, dung or dong?
The duty’s not bad if you like to cut weeds,
Sweep out the barns or be OJT’ed.
It’s just three miles from the main PX.
But they bought me some shoes “So well what the heck.”
I just can’t get over those infantry boys,
Moving and leaving these wonderful joys.
Perhaps it will all come clear someday –
In the meantime I’ll just forget I’m RA.
These MULE BARN BLUES have gotten me down,
Only ten miles from the nearest town;
Cracks in the windows; bugs in the walls
I can’t figure why I ENLISTED at ALL.
Just nine hundred days and it’ll all be over
I’ll be a wreck, a BUM, and a ROVER;
I’m sure it’s quite obvious; I think you can see –
These MULE BARN BLUES are killing me.
Signed “THE PHANTOM,” 1961, Ft. Carson, CO
A part of Ft. Carson is tumbling down.
Built back in ‘forty for mules not for men;
The ‘RED DEVILS’ moved out and the Medics moved in.
Someone please thank those wonderful souls
For being so generous to give us this HOLE.
For so many things they left without charge
The mud in the barracks; the sludge in the yard,
The rocks in the path, the sludge in the street,
KP with ‘ole Barta just three times a week.
Now I’m not complaining so don’t take me wrong
I’ve got CHANCE and not CHOICE so no matter how long:
If these MULE BARNS need cleaning I’ll stick to my song;
What’s this stuff I’m sweeping; is it ding, dung or dong?
The duty’s not bad if you like to cut weeds,
Sweep out the barns or be OJT’ed.
It’s just three miles from the main PX.
But they bought me some shoes “So well what the heck.”
I just can’t get over those infantry boys,
Moving and leaving these wonderful joys.
Perhaps it will all come clear someday –
In the meantime I’ll just forget I’m RA.
These MULE BARN BLUES have gotten me down,
Only ten miles from the nearest town;
Cracks in the windows; bugs in the walls
I can’t figure why I ENLISTED at ALL.
Just nine hundred days and it’ll all be over
I’ll be a wreck, a BUM, and a ROVER;
I’m sure it’s quite obvious; I think you can see –
These MULE BARN BLUES are killing me.
Signed “THE PHANTOM,” 1961, Ft. Carson, CO
- Excerpted from From Humble Beginnings: Songs of a Native Son by William Franklin Andrews. Copyright 2005 William Frank Andrews, all rights reserved.
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