Cammo Clad Angel

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.