Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bummer, artist - Harry Chapin. Album song The Elektra Collection (1971-1978), in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 08.10.2015
Record label: Elektra, Rhino Entertainment Company
Song language: English
Bummer |
His mama was a midnight woman |
His daddy was a drifter drummer |
One night they put it together |
Nine months later came the little black bummer |
He was a laid back lump in the cradle |
Chewing the paint chips that fell from the ceiling |
Whenever he cried he got a fist in his face |
So he learned not to show his feelings |
He was a pigtail puller in grammar school |
Left back twice by the seventh grade |
Sniffing glue in Junior High |
And the first one in school to get laid |
He was a weed-speed pusher at fifteen |
He was mainlining skag a year later |
He’d started pimping when they put him away |
In jail he changed from a junkie to a hater |
And just like the man from the precinct said: |
«Put him away, you better kill him instead |
A bummer like that is better of dead |
Someday they’re gonna have to put a bullet in his head.» |
They threw him back on the street, he robbed an A & P |
He didn’t blink at the buddy that he shafted |
And just about the time they would have caught him too |
He had the damn good fortune to get drafted |
He was A-One bait for Vietnam, you see they needed more bodies in a hurry |
He was a cinch to train cause all they had to do |
Was to figure how to funnel his fury |
They put him in a tank near the D M Z |
To catch the gooks slipping over the border |
They said his mission was to Search and Destroy |
And for once he followed an order |
One sweat-soaked day in the Yung-Po Valley |
With the ground still steaming from the rain |
There was a bloody little battle that didn’t mean nothing |
Except to the few that remained |
You see a couple hundred slants had trapped the other five tanks |
And had started to pick off the crews |
When he came on the scene and it really did seem |
This is why he’d paid those dues |
It was something like a butcher going berserk |
Or a sane man acting like a fool |
Or the bravest thing that a man had ever done |
Or a madman blowing his cool |
Well he came on through like a knife through butter |
Or a scythe sweeping through the grass |
Or to say it like the man would have said it himself: |
«Just a big black bastard kicking ass!» |
And just like the man from the precinct said: |
«Put him away, you better kill him instead |
A bummer like that is better of dead |
Someday they’re gonna have to put a bullet in his head.» |
When it was over and the smoke had cleared |
There were a lot of V C bodies in the mud |
And when the rescued men came over for the very first time |
They found him smiling as he lay in his blood |
They picked up the pieces and they stitched him back together |
He pulled through though they thought he was a goner |
And it force them to give him what they said they would |
Six purple hearts and the Medal of Honor |
Of course he slouched as the chief white honkey said: |
«Service beyond the call of duty» |
But the first soft thought was passing through his mind |
«My medal is a Mother of a beauty!» |
He got a couple of jobs with the ribbon on his chest |
And though he tried he really couldn’t do 'em |
There was only a couple of things that he was really trained for |
And he found himself drifting back to 'em |
Just about the time he was ready to break |
The V A stopped sending him his checks |
Just a matter of time 'cause there was no doubt |
About what he was going to do next |
It ended up one night in a grocery store |
Gun in hand and nine cops at the door |
And when his last battle was over |
He lay crumpled and broken on the floor |
And just like the man from the precinct said: |
«Put him away, you better kill him instead |
A bummer like that is better of dead |
Someday they’re gonna have to put a bullet in his head.» |
Well he’d breathed his last, but ten minutes past |
Before they dared to enter the place |
And when they flipped his riddled body over they found |
His second smile frozen on his face |
They found his gun where he’d thrown it |
There was something else clenched in his fist |
And when they pried his fingers open they found the Medal of Honor |
And the Sergeant said: «Where in the hell he get this?» |
There was a stew about burying him in Arlington |
So they shipped him in box to Fayette |
And they kind of stashed him in a grave in the county plot |
The kind we remember to forget |
And just like the man from the precinct said: |
«Put him away, you better kill him instead |
A bummer like that is better of dead |
Someday they’re gonna have to put a bullet in his head.» |