Gather around, boys, I'll tell you a tale Of the pilots who fly on the Ho Chi Minh Trail Of Nimrod and Covey and Blind Bat you've heard Spad and of Nail and of Old Yellow Bird The trucks load in Hanoi and Haiphong by day In singles and convoys they roll on their way South by southwest in an unending stream Reaching the border at day's fading gleam They stop at Mugia or at Ban Ca Rai And wait for the last of the daylight to die Under cover of night through the pass they set sail Out on the roads of the Ho Chi Minh Trail As they roll on through darkness not stopping to rest Miles away are the pilots whose skills they will test They'll soon face the darkness, the karst and the guns In the grim cat and mouse game that no one's yet won When you fly on the trail through the dark and the haze It's a thing you'll remember the rest of your days A nightmare of vertigo, mountains and flack And the cold wind of death breathing soft at your back But the trucks must be stopped and it's all up to you So you fly here each night to this grim rendezvous Where your whole world's confined to the light of the flare And you fight for your life just to stay in the air For there's many a man who there met his fate On the dark roads of hell where the grim reaper waits Where a man must learn quickly the tricks of his trade Or die in the dark for mistakes that he's made And there's many a lad in the flush of his youth Who's still yet to meet with his moment of truth With wings on his chest and the world by the tail He'll grow up fast on the Ho Chi Minh Trail www.mooji.org