Our Gal, Val --by Bohdan Sirant, 2011 We’ve got a gal And her name is Val She’s not

human But a .50 cal --a .50 cal BMG C-15 Never tiring Of precision firing She’s a marksman’s dream A long range Shooting weapon Our Voodoo queen A techno-goddess A worshipped machine She’s super sexy Like Marilyn Monroe Only metallic Like J-Lo all aglow Pampered and coddled By our firing team And when she lets loose Man, can she scream Like a banshee from hell In a badass’s bad dream She’s one destructive dame Projects wicked woe And excruciating pain To far-off foes Whom she kills or leaves lame Val delivers the goods Whether in open dessert Or mountainside woods Whatever the call Wherever she’s lain We‘ve seen badasses fall We’ve seen bad guys slain And what we like Probably most of all Is she’s fit, fierce And feisty A real femme fatale We can count on her To win every bet

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No matter the distance She hasn’t failed yet Whether across a wide valley Or up a hillside steep to yonder ridge Or valley deep Where enemy lurks Or insurgent creeps Adversary hides Or foe lightly sleeps Followed by a retort One that’s echoes Really loud That ends in an instant With a puff Of pink cloud A sure sign of success That makes us Weirdly proud Especially when We do it again To take out a crowd She’s an avenging angel The enemy dreads From two thousand metres She can blow off their heads And after several days Of hardship and toil We come back to base To refresh and to laze And to anoint her With sweet-scented solvent and gun oil We sing to her softly And clean her Every single thing From her crisp button rifling To her box magazine Singing…. Val, Val, Sweet Val My loving rifle My .50 cal super gal I love your sleek stock And I love your bright scope You’re the one for me So let’s elope

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