Once upon a time there was a bunk G2
They came to camp like good little Jews
The boys would go to instruction and kill in tition
Then shorted sheets, mischief their mission
On the way to the rifle range, they stopped at 420
Ending up at the water tower, pockets filled with good and plenty
Off to Charley's kitchen to steal some sugar shmucks
Sneaking past him husking corn, with help from the Glucks
Fin and Mary hanging out by the canteen
The chief on the porch writing the log's next routine
When suddenly a hand lay upon my shoulder
Bond and his plunger, our caper was over
We each lost a point, 5 in total the next day
Changing the year to Green ahead of Gray
The seniors were furious
The lower campers were curious
And we knew what lay ahead, the hot oven for certainous
They stood in a row along upper camp, leaders in their prime
Ready to the smack our arss as we waited in line
I was first to go, kneeling before Big Jeffrey
He looked 10 feet tall and wide as Moms Mabaley
I got through the giant with a tap and not a smack
But not red free by the end of the pack
We won by 1 point that year
Grays win again have no fear
If not for G2 it would have been six
But who is counting, the mischief had been fixed
And now it is forgotten, we have all grown old
If not for this log, the story never told