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Seem to remember composing another verse to the above:
Flying over Yorkshire at just 250 feet,
In our fighting battle four we know we're hard to beat,
The leader is lost without a doubt,
And the number three has his INAS out,
But we're pressing on regardless
for the WingCo's AFC.
Also remember (Appolgies to 1(F) Sqn)
(to the Beatles tune of 'When we are 64')
Today we saw them high in the sky,
Over Wainfleet range,
Rockets they were throwing high and wide,
Bombs were going way down the side
Nobody heeds them, nobody needs them
Poor old 54
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