I wanna go home
I wanna go home
Ack ack and Zeros are driving me mad
You can't eat the chow and the liquor is bad
Take me back to Frisco
That's where we're longing to go
Oh Ma, I'm too young to die
I wanna go home

I wanna go home
I wanna go home
Our B-17s are breaking to bits
They won't hold together for many trips
So let's go back and sell Bonds
And cheer the war heroes on
Oh Ma, I'm too young to die
I wanna go home

I wanna go home
I wanna go home
We're thru with Shortland and Bougainville
If the Japs don't get you the weather sure will
Even Texas is better then this
A land of comparative bliss
Oh Ma, I'm too young to die
I wanna go home

I wanna go home
I wanna go home
The Medicos claim we're still able to fly
Our Chaplain tells us we're ready to die
But we'll take none of that stuff
We know when we've had enough
Oh Ma, I'm too young to die
I wanna go home

I wanna go home
I wanna go home
TIME tells us that ack ack's a beautiful sight
LIFE printed a picture of tracers at night
But the stuff that we see is real
From up close it loses appeal
Oh Ma, I'm too young to die
I wanna go home.

» Lieutenant G. Roddenberry, 1943

Oh, for a glimpse of the sea again,
For the thrill when the ocean spray,
Caught from the crest of a rolling wave,
Is a kiss from a sea bouquet.

Give me the wheel of a sailing ship
And the surge of the briny main.
Bring on the wind till the hawsers sing
And the spars and the lanyards strain.

Sing me the chanteys of sailing men
To the tune of a northern gale.
Sing to the music of anchor chains,
To the beat of a popping sail.

Bury this frame in these fields you must,
But this soul is unfettered and free.
I'll set my sails to a western wind
And beat my course to the sea.

» Capt. Eugene W. Roddenberry, 1945