She was ashamed to come out of the bunker,
As there weren't Privates gawping at she.
She was afraid that, out of ten, they'd flunk her,
So she did blame being just cup-size C.
(No free wars, tell the troops now what she bought.)

It was t***y-nipping, peaky-tweaking jello-poking hot procedure.
That she bought with the tax dimes we pay.
With tummy-tucking, boulder-bulging military bods indulging.
Now from the bunker she strutted out: HEY!
(Her peeps saw, quickly found the surgeon's door.)

He was ashamed to try out manual gr**in'
Cuz no pre-w**king swelling would occur.
He operated, filled out his new roping.
And so he stood at attention once more.
(Who pees sore? His new p**** rose and roared.)

It was a hip new 'gripping', weenie-preening. Bill awoke and got a greeting.
That was bought with the tax dimes we pay.
A t***e-stretching, s*****m-loadin' ph***s packing lots, so potent.
Oh he did sp*** it and flaunt it all day.
(Two, three, four, sticky mounds all gel the floor.)

Now he's afraid to come out of the bunker.
For this soldier's a he. Operate?
Now he's a lady, son now is a daughter.
And the war's issues seem obsolete.
(Who's she? Woah! Haven't seen that babe before!)

It was a nip n' snippin', loppin' choppin' fellow-to-a-lassy op, man.
That was bought with the tax dimes we pay.
A trainee-trainin', marine-cleaning dollar-taking plot of scheming.
So Ugly Bunker is now called Watch Bay.

(From no c*** into a w***er.)
(From no tanktop to dropped jaws.)
(From a son to a daughter.)
This Operation Desert Storm.