I’ll tell you here a story and I swear I will not lie.
It’s a story of a man we knew — to whom we’ve said goodbye:
Once a jungle scarred and blasted, overhead a baleful sky,
Where with whirring, doleful droning, did a lonely chopper fly
To a clearing where the man lay still — it took him by and by
To a place where they could save him, and I tell you that is why
While he lived for ever after on the fourth day of July
Would that digger quietly praise the Yanks who wouldn’t let him die.
— D.N. O’Brien