ad..si e # 65 THE NATIONAL TOPICAL SONG MAGAZINE DEC. 15, 1965 PRICE -- 50¢ GIT Words & Husic by LEN H. CHANDLER,Jr. GONE @1965 Len H. Chandler JrG This song is #6 From 21-A II All" E.."1 Ail E All ,. I ""'" ... [ I qJ ., I I ~ ~ J J J ....... J there . Things are in a jam down in Vi.;..et- nam J People down don't I I ., l.d II I I 1\ II '1<1" 1 II 1)/1 A',.uJ- -1)d C:::r /, ]);; W" ~A J «!: All f1", A" AI I # • .... J , P rij ~ ~_.l ). - IIt- 2]) J J J lqt J - I . And the people down there are the Vi-et-cong. Hell you Ire wrong, sam .~ A _ ~ ~ All f "" t·· '" i:-A \I £::1 (.,.. 3 <i) A 1 ~ "II~'" -,III h',jt ) i j t] 1 j I!!:J' ~ I h - I -IPillE EHEHlEHEHHffiE - I # b better h ~'../ ~ m ~ t±Hfj ~ scram-; Don't you know you I d git gone. (*Each ~troke above chords equals one beat) The voice from cross the barricade shouts give us joy Got a letter othE:r day it sai.d greetings son The voice from cross the barricade shouts We want you in our Hal' corne and get your gun bomb Hanoi I wrote sam a letter had to tell him no There's a C.I.A. confession that they call I'm a real freedom fighter so I just can't go I spy and you I re wrong sam scram Where living color Cosby helps to sell the don't you know you'd better git gone. big lie, well you're wrong, etc. I almost went to jail for the thirteenth Take your hands off Asia's throat time Put your dominos away and let the people vote When a nazi threw red paint on my picket sign I gave up cigarettes 'cause they kept rne I heard him yell don't be misled by red broke I don't think he listened to a thing he said And draft cards make a much more healthy well you're wrong sam scram, etc. smoke, ruld you're wrong, etc. Repeat first verse 'Get e Out of Here" Redwood City. Cal., Nov. 17 (AP)-"I'm skk, sick of what I've done and of what happened to friends," the young soldier wrote from Viet Nam. "I feel as if I am 100 yean. old. :\fy luck is running out. Please do what you can for me. :pad, I don't want to die. Please get me out of here." The lett€r from Army Pvt. David Carnevale, 21, was re­ ceived Saturday by his parents, 1\11'. and Mrs. Silvio Carnevale at their home on the San Francisco Peninsula. They began trying' to get him sent home. He was drafted six months ago. Yesterday they received a telegram that their son had been kill~ in the vicious battle of Ia Drang Valley. IDEA FOR tiTHE BAL­ LAD OF NOVEMBER BY Bill Frederick SEVENTEEN". Events sometimes come together on a certain day - or even a certain hour - to bring into olear focus the brutal truth of history. Suoh a day -- and suoh an hour - was Nov. 17,1965. On that day mounds of American dead were piling up in the Au Drang valley of the little the~l,C>.un~There'S cities of silver that shine in the night, Churches in Vietnam. Other American boys, wounded, were )1). J ) 1.3 ) 21 01 .:11(- r rlj) JI~ 00/; .3 soreaming in pain )G' and fear. But of splendor and halls of delight., And only an echo of _I ~dt an d rums. Who_ can deny__ where were the men C.>r.,., ~,The slaveships, they oame with the whip & the raok. who sent these A­ & a million blaok people with soars on their baaka merican youth to Pioked ootton, drew water &: slept in the oold. die in that fiery .;oJ),3 ) Id!511 With a Bible for oomfort they were happy, I'm told. hell? Men, for how far we have co~ The laws they were passed, slavery went. instance, like Our land's integrated, at least six percent: Lyndon B. Johnson, 3,Tha immigrants came from the green Irish shore. In the shareoropper's shaok & the big oity alum. Hubert Humphrey, Who oan deny how far we have come? Robert McNamara? From poland & Russia., ten Deaf to the soreams million & more, 5. In A..sia. & Africa they're leamin' too of the dying, they Germany, Italy, all the world 'round, How free enterprise can do wonders for were living it up at To settle our ghettos & immigrant towns. Their brains & their bodies they put you. a "glittering" White to the wheel South Afrioa's priSOns are buntin' House ball for Prin­ To build our great fa.ot'ries & towers with men, cess Meg. They ad­ of steel. Barbed wire keeps the Vietnamese in. mired the ttlmockout To maroh to our battles & G&rrY our guna. Where eleotions are daydreams that jewels" on the women, Who can d.eny how far we haveoome? never get far they ate Atlantio Amerioan weapons are there standin' pompano amadine, and .Well. all through the Andes they've guard. danced gayly to the heard of our name We're ready to fight for the lands that strains of tlEvery_ On the faa tory wall. in the palaoe of we run. thing I s Coming Up shame. Who oan deny how far we have oome? Roses. 1I As one fe­ ~y drink Coca Cola & the dimes that they spend (;,.our fears they are ma.ny • though they're male correspondent Go straight to the pookets of our seldom said. squealed: "It was businessmen They're blaok & they're yellow, tneY're fun, fun, fun!" To pay for our Fords & our split-level brown & they're red. homas They see through the legend, they smell NOVEMBER 17, 1965 our hi-fi's & reoorda &: six peroent loans, I the de08¥. Protecting our profits with dictators' gu~TheY're learnin' to fight the American W&¥. 'Screaming in Pain' Who can deny how far we have aome? &: we in our armohairs are quiok to oondemn. "The ones we left behind were ,screaming in p a i n and fear. Our bankboOkll are fallin'. our profitll might end Som~ne shouted 0 u t, jlDon't The break1n' at cha1ns 1s our funeral hum. leave me.' " A lieutenant called Who can deny how far we have oome? ,out, 'Please shoot me. Please Copyright 1965 by Bill Frederick shoot me. I don't want them to Repeat first verse. get me.''' HOh, God, it was horrible," to the north The relief force Mrs. Ford's streaked blonde said PFC David Weed of Pitts­ Mrs. Johnson wore an emeraldi PRINCESS EXCITED L found Ameri~an dead lying be- hair was pu\!ed high and then I ton, Maine. "Guys were crying. green strapless silk gown with I iWe had to leave them. Some a bolero. Margaret's dregs was In one place nearby, the side dead enemy troops and the ~~~e mOf a h~~n~€C~rl ~~;~:~: shocking pInk batiste with a, Americans found three North w~unded screaming in fear and dress clung to her figure; she , ~~.~ _.s~re~ming." \ pam. _ probably was the most looked r matching jacket edg-ed ~t the I Vietnamese wounded. One lay i Dinner Fit lor a King low neckline and sleeves with, huddled under a tree a smile , _. Lall!htc~ and Clutttcr -J Private Henry listened, his . cr~stal and pea,.1 fringe. I 'On his face. ' Sudednly everyone around \ eyes inexpressibly sad. ' hit and "It wasn't worth it" he I 18~ Served to Margaret Scene of Horror :'You won't smIle any more/' was ,ettlng dying. 'saId on.. of the Americatl sol­ ''I conIci heat IICreal1lll all said. twisting his hat in his i WASHINGTON, Nov. 17 Chu Prong Foothills, Nov. 18 I ,diers, pumping bullets into his a,.-..und me, all o~ t~e piace. hands. "Every time I looked , (AP) -President and Mrs. (Reute,rs)-Dead and wounded body. The other two met the ! Johnson served a White House I Americans lay stacked together Meanwlille, her husband, the I up there were bullets danc­ I dinner tonight fit for a king I same fate. Earl of Snowdon, fox-trotted, ing up toward me. It was I in honor' of .. princess-Brit- today after the ambush here_ Surviors were brought out from There was laughter and chat-\ around the floor· with Mrs. I hell. I hated it. I know ·aln's Margaret and her hus­ ting; Margaret smoked a cigar­ I band, the Earl Of Snowdon. under corpses. .Tnhnson. I every guy up there wrapped 'etle on a long holder and every­ The menu' for the regal din­ Some wounded were found Among the knockout jewels I up in a poncho, and it isn't ner, which was served In the : .?~ looked totally at ease. of the evening, besides those worth it." wandering aimlessly, sh,?c~ed state dining room, follows: I Margaret wore, were Mrs. John I TIny Princess Marga.ret, Atwmtic pompano amadine Iand dazed. One man was slttmg Margaret wore no tiara on Sherman Cooper1s emerald·and·! . ROO8t 8quab I and crying to himself, holding her fluffed-up brunette hai~-do diamond collar; Happy ROCke-I barely 5 feet tall, and 6-foot-3- feller's diamond necklace and ineh Lyndon Johnson stepped Art~hoke6 with I • hand of a dead comrade.