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poets title
Right here in Baghdad
In the heat of the desert
Underneath the white hot sun
I'm here in Baghdad
Workin', sweatin', having fun

Mortars are flying
And there's no place to hide
I go to sleep
With my bible by my side

Soldiers, Airmen and Marines
Guard the walls day and night
When the order's given
Man they're ready for the fight

Hours run into days
And the nights go flying by
Right here in Baghdad
What an ugly place to die

Going home on that big bird
When my year is up and done
Close my eyes and dreaming
All I hear is burping guns

Back at home is waiting
The dream I left behind
Looking at her picture
I can't get her off my mind

Jodie's lurking in the shadows
Whispering softly in her ear
Can't do a damn thing about it
Dodging mortars over here

Hours run into days
And the nights go flying by
Right here in Baghdad
What an ugly place to die
-- Eric Robertson
May 2004
4413B Caswell Ave.

 

cartoon of a palm
Page 18 -- January, 2005 -- Pecan Press

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