Author unknown. (NOTE: This was written many years before the word “Gay” took on its’ present day meaning.)
Of all the sad things in life,
There’s nothing to compare;
The remote located radicians lot
This thought is hard to bear.
Oh! he volunteered to go alright
He didn’t have to come;
There was no one to beg him
Or force him with a gun.
When he first left his job and home
And traveled to unfamiliar places;
He was slightly afraid of things unknown
And looked for friendly faces.
There are good places and bad places,
And Radicians are always sent to the bad;
Where weather is lousy, the mail is slow
And conveniences of home are not had.
There’s nothing to do, no place to go.
Also, no means of getting there.
His companions are men, no women around.
Somehow this doesn’t seem fair!
The Radicians life is a lonely life
Can’t think of any that are worse;
When you can’t find a place to spend your money,
This would make even a hermit curse!
When the job is done and over with,
And it’s his turn to go home,
He’s gay, happy, can’t hardly wait,
And swears never again will he roam.
Now he’s home and happy……almost,
For he’d forgotten what it was really like.
The wife nags more than he remembered,
And the kid is screaming for a bike!
No, he’s not his own boss anymore,
And it’s not so peaceful and quiet!
there’s too many places to spend money,
And the new paycheck looks like it’s on a diet!
Now he remembers how easy it was,
This lonely life of a Radician!
When New York calls for volunteers, he’ll say,
“Here I am. Take me, I’ll go under any conditions!!
Contributed by Roger Collinson