I was about twenty-one, bitten by the folksong bug, and expecting fairly soon to be drafted and sent to Korea.   I perpetrated this sublime piece of crap:

I'm goin' off to fight in the war
All on the Korean strand
Who's a-gonna kiss your red, ruby lips?
Who's a-gonna glove your hand?

It's you will kiss my red, ruby lips
And you will glove my hand
And no-one will do me either of them
While you're gone to the Korean strand.

I hadn't been gone but about two months,
Come a letter in her hand:
"Dear John, I will not wait for you
"While you're gone to that foreign land."

"My new love will kiss my red, ruby lips
"And he will glove my hand
"And he will make me his fair bride
"While you're gone to that foreign land."

With a tune almost as inspired.

UGH!

Dave Oesterreich