“Hello Muddah
Hello Fadah
Here I am at
Camp Corona...”
OK, now I’m triggered. Summer of ‘65 I worked on an albacore boat out of San Pedro, Cal. There were just three of us on the boat, the owner/captain and two of us to haul the fish in. The other guy sang that song to himself all of the time—at least it seemed that way to me at the time. Two weeks at a time, trapped on a 38’ boat unable to escape “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadah...”