UNITED STATES FLEET “HOME ON THE RANGE(R)”
ATLANTIC SQUADRON
U. S. S. RANGER
(Sequel to “Gloomy Sunday”)Oh we got a home,
Where the Iguanas roam,
Where mosquitoes and Tarantulas play,
Where never is heard
An encouraging word,
And the dust never settles all day,CHORUS:
Home, home on the Ranger,
We’re stuck in Guantanamo Bay,
And never is heard,
That most welcome word,
That we’re leaving for Norfolk next day.How often at night
By a feeble flashlight,
With no help from the glittering stars,
Have we stood there askance,
With the bugs in our pants,
Oh there’s no one with troubles like ours.Oh we’re in a land,
Where the rocks, dust, and sand.
Choke engines and pilots and things,
And for over a week.
There’s been no campho-phenique,
To put on our mosquito stings,We would gladly exchange,
Our roost on the range,
For most any civilized spot,
But since we must roam,
Why can’t we go home,
Guantanamo Bay’s too darn hot.
This “filk” may have been written sometime between January and April, 1939 when the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Ranger (CV-4) was at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Although the author was not attributed on the typewritten paper I have, it was possibly written by my father George William Palmer. The top centered text is from the letterhead that the song was typed on.