When I left ‘Nam, I was on a jet;
Two hundred and twelve of us, each a Vet.
The day before we were all in battle,
Tonight we land in old Seattle.
At Sea-Tac it’s standby, so I go and eat;
I see a hippie and I offer a seat.
We chatted, and rambled, and talked a while;
His plane was a called and I gave him a smile.
He got up to leave, and then he said;
“You know, it’s too bad you aren’t dead”.
I sat there a moment, then felt a shade,
And I thought ‘I guess there’s no parade’.
On my flight home I thought of him,
And then wrote this on a whim:
Peace-nik, beat-nik, hippie and dove;
mix together and add some love;
boil it, and spoil it,
and send it to school;
then forget the Golden Rule.
[apologies to Robert Service]