He was a rat.
He survived the four years.
He faced the challenges.
He was a rat.

He was a rat.
His mother cried.
When he marched by.
She was glad he tried.
She knew he was a rat.

He was a rat.
His father had survived it,
could he?

He was a rat.
They yelled in his face.
He wished he could break out of this place.
He was a rat.

He was a rat.
Until he broke out.
He climbed the hill of mud.
He helped his fellow classmen.
They broke out, they had made it.

He was a rat.
He got into third class.
He went to the football games.





They would go floating down the Maury.
Nothing was the same.
He was a rat.

He was a rat.
Two more years to go.
He was now in second class.
He was in barracks with three guys.
They would go to Eastland Market when off duty,
for some good buys.

He was a rat.
He was now in first class.
He was now at the top.
He was able to pass.
He was in First Class.

It was his final parade.
It was his graduation.
He had made it.
It was time to leave this place called VMI.