Make Dinner, Not War Poem by John F. McCullagh

Back in the days of Vietnam
We said: “Make Love, not war.”
No matter how many Cong we killed
Like Doritos, they made more.
Walter Cronkite helped keep score
as the toll grew ever higher.
Foes relentless as the monsoon rains
They made Nam a quagmire.
We killed them all three times at least
Surely all of them were gone.
Then shortly after we had left
They turned up in Saigon!
Now we’re in a forever war
without a likely winner.
A pity we can claim a draw
And bring the boys home for dinner.