Song of an aging Chinook crew-chief:

You saw him walkin' down the street and you quickly looked away,
Cause you don't know where you stand with him and you don't know what to say.
Remembering no welcome, so you care that no one cared,
But you don't look in his eyes because you're scared of seeing scared.

And some remember sacrifice and glory in the war,
Some remember parties, with their buddies and the whores.
Some march in parades to say that "they did not die in vain",
Others turn their backs to try to hide their grief and shame.

And some you'll see 'a-walkin' point in the alleys way downtown
Pushin' grocery carts with dirty flags 'a-hangin' down.
Trundle-ing their fortunes up and down the city streets
Survivors of the war, forever wounded by the peace.

And sometimes I've awakened when the nights were hot and damp
With a couple 'a squads of infantry 'a-sloggin' down the ramp
To a long forgotten fire-fight in a screamin' stinkin' dawn
Where some teen-aged soldier fell and puked his life up and was gone

So many flags were folded for the mothers and the wives
50 nylon stars -- 50 thousand lives
But a Democratic order tells the young ones what to do
To the Viet Cong guerilla, like the Powder River Sioux

So the next time that you see him on the streets out in the rain
You don't owe him no money, and he ain't expectin' fame
Don't lay your standards on him, man, just leave him free to roam
But maybe you could shake his hand and tell him "Welcome Home"