Nickel On The Grass

If you attend the military funeral of a fighter pilot, you'll see attendees throwing nickels onto the grave. The tradition is an homage to the song Throw A Nickel On The Grass, which has become the de-facto anthem of the fighter pilot community. It evolved from the early 20th century Salvation Army song Put A Nickel On the Drum:I was lyin' in the gutter, all covered up with beer!Pretzels in my eyebrow, I feared the end was near,When along come the Salvation Army and saved me from the hearse.Everybody come along, let's sing that second verse:Hallelujah! Hallelujah!Put a nickel on the drum, save another drunken bum!Hallelujah! Hallelujah!Put a nickel on the drum and you'll be saved!Oh, G-L-O-R-Y, to be S-A-V-E-D!I'm so H-A-P-P-Y that I'm F-R-double-E (hee-hee!)!F-R-double-E from the ways of S-I-N!Glory, glory, hallelujah, tra-la-la-l'-amen!Hallelujah! Hallelujah!Put a nickel on the drum, save another drunken bum!Hallelujah! Hallelujah!Put a nickel on the drum and you'll be saved!During the Korean War, Lt. William Star released a collection of songs to military songwriter Oscar Brand, and one of the songs was the repurposed Nickel On The Grass:Chorus:Oh, Halleliua, HalleliuaThrow a nickel on the grass–Save a fighter pilot’s ass.Oh, Halleliua, Oh, HalleliuaThrow a nickel on the grass and you’ll be saved.I was cruising down the Yalu, doing six and twenty perWhen a call came from the Major, Oh won ‘t you save me sir?Got three flak holes in my wing tips, and my tanks ain’t got no gas.Mayday, mayday, mayday, I got six MIGS on my ass.ChorusI shot my traffic pattern, and to me it looked all right,The airspeed read one-thirty, I really racked it tight!Then the airframe gave a shudder, the engine gave a wheeze,Mayday, mayday, mayday, spin instructions please.ChorusIt was split S on my Bomb run, and I got too God Damn lowBut I pressed that bloody button, and I let those babies goSucked the stick back fast as blazes, when I hit a height speed stallI won’t see my mother when the work all done next fall.ChorusThey sent me down to Pyongyang, the brief said “no ack ack”by the time that I arrived there, my wings was mostly flak.Then my engine coughed and sputtered, it was too cut up to flyMayday, mayday, mayday, I’m too young to die.ChorusI bailed out from the Sabre, and the landing came out fineWith my E and E equipment, I made for our front line.When I opened up ration, to see what was in it,The God damn quartermaster why he filled the tin with grit.Chorus