Jane Fonda seeks exoneration,
Forgiveness from her traitored nation.
What say you warriors fought that war?
Is forgiveness due that wartime whore?
So rich, so smart, she thought she knew
Much more than us, we bloodied few.
So smug, self—serving, seeking fame,
The rich bitch played her seditious game.
 
A game that cost me many friends,
Many, thanks to Jane, came to bad ends.
I've borne scars forty years or more,
From lies laid on me by this whore.
Self—serving now she sells her tale,
This traitor who should be in jail.
Is it within our souls to grant her grace?
Our souls shout, 'No... spit in her face!'

So self assured, she played high stakes,
Telling American prisoners, 'That's the breaks.'
She accused brave men of heinous crimes,
Which were disproved in future times.
And now our country knows the truth
Jane Fonda betrayed us in our youth.
She asks us now to read her book,
Americans, the folks this bitch forsook.

So now she crawls, her conscience bare,
To tell us she screwed up back there.
Well, hell, we knew that way back then,
This Hanoi Jane who helped them win.
It was glory then for this airhead star,
But forever now she'll bear the scar
A scarlet letter she'll now wear,
A stench forever in her hair.

So Jane, dear, you must realize,
You're the devil in a helmet in our eyes.
When Vietnam vets raise up their toasts
It's to damn your soul, to salute our ghosts.
We swear, we living, to our long—dead brave,
We'll live to piss upon your grave.
So Jane, good fortune, unforeseen,
Your traitor's grave will be forever green.

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65—66

Russ Vaughn is the Poet Laureate of The American Thinker