Marine Corps Poetry: Shootin’

Carl | February 1, 2013 

I remember back in ’42,

I signed my name

And said “I do,”

And was admitted to the Corps.

I was young and not too wise,

Didn’t take long to realize

I’d caught a tiger by the tail.

They sent me to a place called boot

And told me how I was to shoot,

And let me fire away — almost at will.

Well, I fired close and I fired far,

They told me I was a star.

And Hell — I wasn’t even tryin’.

They said for a raw recruit

I really knew how to shoot.

And I confessed:

I’d done it once or twice.

When I was young it all began,

When Pappy grabbed me by the hand,

And took me out

To get a mess of squirrel.

He showed me how to aim them sights,

To hold that rifle close up tight

And squeeze that trigger

Oh, sooo very slow.

So, when my DI came along

And sang to me that same ol’ song,

I thought my pappy had

Come back from the dead.

Then and there I knelt me down

And squeezed off my first round,

And could tell right from the sound

That I was smack-dab on the ol’ target.

So, I kept it up the whole day long,

It seems that I could do no wrong.

I ended up the best that they’d seen.

And you know what they went and did?

They paid me three dollars

More a month.

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