Colin F. Jones

(Pronounced “Mozzies”)

The day had been a tough one; we’d fired a thousand rounds,
Clogged in mud that smelt like shit that all around abounds
The grunts had found a complex of bunkers filled with Cong,
We’d hammered them throughout the day with a little battery song,
But now it was all over and strewth I was so tired,
So I hit the fart sack with a will to claim what I desired,
In my pit I smoked a fag and draped my mossie net,
Stuck my rifle on some sticks to stop it getting wet,
Ignoring all the slimy worms that dangled from the walls,
I settled down to get some sleep before the piquet calls
I heard a whine and felt the sting of a well aimed missile hit,
And I knew right then a bloody mossie shared my sleeping pit.
“Piss off!! Ya drongo! Ouch! You rat!!” It bit me on the arse!
I tried to capture it by sound but that turned out a farce!
Eventually I got it out by lifting up the net,
And tried to settle down again but not quite bloody yet!
You know those mossies over there in bloody Vietnam,
They fly in pairs to seek you out as smart as any man
One sticks his stinger through the net and the other gives a push,
Then all at once in chaotic haste there’s a massive bloody rush…