The reassuring conventions of a home-front farewell are replaced by television coverage, shelters, and devastation. A miniature story about Johnny Jones separates two versions of the refrain. All six printed blocks are included; the distorted broadcaster names are deliberate rhymes in the source.
So long, Mom,
I'm off to drop the bomb,
So don't wait up for me.
But while you swelter
Down there in your shelter,
You can see me
On your TV.
While we're attacking frontally,
Watch Brinkally and Huntally,
Describing contrapuntally
The cities we have lost.
No need for you to miss a minute
Of the agonizing holocaust.
Little Johnny Jones he was a U.S. pilot,
And no shrinking vi'let was he.
He was mighty proud when World War Three was declared.
He wasn't scared,
No siree!
And this is what he said on
His way to armageddon:
So long, Mom,
I'm off to drop the bomb,
So don't wait up for me.
But though I may roam,
I'll come back to my home,
Although it may be
A pile of debris.
Remember, Mommy,
I'm off to get a Commie,
So send me a salami,
And try to smile somehow.
I'll look for you when the war is over ---
An hour and a half from now