“Jimmy McHaelik, I’m angry at you!”

He answered, “Ooh my, What did I do?”

“I’ve looked all around for your ol’ combat boots,

the basement, the bedroom, the garage, and the roof.”

Jimmy sat quietly for a moment while his coffee he stirred.

“I brought them to work, then tossed them into the Dumpster.

Those ol’ boots couldn’t take anymore, worn with age and frail.”

“So you just dumped them into the nearest garbage pail?”

“Yes, that’s what I did, when they just about fell off my feet.

Please pass me the sugar, I like my coffee real sweet.

They weren’t any good, they were covered in fuel oil.”

“How could you, after they walked on Vietnam soil?

I wanted them to hold pots for my flowers to grow

Those ol’ boots tell a story, don’t you know?”

Into his coffee Jimmy poured milk.

“They smelled so bad flowers’d wilt

From gas fumes and old dirty socks.

I traded them in for a pair of Reebok’s.

The leather was tattered from days of old.

They weren’t only dusty, thin were the soles.

They were beat up and battered and falling apart.

Didn’t think tossing them would break your heart.

They’ve served me quite well for almost two score,

Like us ol’ soldiers they just couldn’t do any more.

It was sad to unlace them, then bid them farewell.

They served me on earth in a place we called hell.

When I close my eyes I can still hear the sound

They’ve been dragged toe first over the ground

Through the rain and the mud, and even the sun

They’ve marched, walked, and they have run.

Although they gave my feet blisters at times

They protected me from grease, and grime.

To pass inspections, I knew just what to do

To polish them up making them look new.

They lasted me from 1968 to 2000 and 5

I just buried them, they’d already died.

God Bless those ol’ boots.”