She's a Joan of Arc when the battle's on the go
And her voice inspires on a soldier's radio;
She's a Helen of Troy when all the chips are down,
That cammo clad angel is always around.
There's a blue-bird singin' in the sky,
There's a brown-bird on the telephone line
And she don't dress all fancy and fine,
She's a cammo clad angel,
Angel of mine.
She's a Florence Nightingale beside a sick bay bed
With the soft hands of compassion gently on a soldier's head,
She's a guardian angel in the hour of need,
That cammo clad angel's a good friend indeed.
There's a blue-bird singin' in the sky,
There's a brown-bird on the telephone line
And she don't dress all fancy and fine,
She's a cammo clad angel,
Angel of mine.
She's a guiding star in the blackness of the night
And her smiling face seems to make the day go right,
She's a ray of sunshine in the shadows of my fear,
That cammo clad angel always seems to be near.
There's a blue-bird singin' in the sky,
There's a brown-bird on the telephone line
And she don't dress all fancy and fine,
She's a cammo clad angel,
Angel of mine.
There's a blue-bird singin' in the sky,
There's a brown-bird on the telephone line
And she don't dress all fancy and fine,
She's a cammo clad angel,
Angel of mine.