Traditional Squadron Songs
Cunning Artificer
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Finally gone but never forgotten, the graceful queen of the skies... Not!
Shackletons don’t bother me!
Shackletons don’t bother me!
Clapped out abortions with flaps on their Wings,
Damn their propellors and their piston rings,
For we’re saying goodbye to them all, (a much too premature hope!)
Three fifths of five eighths of f*ck all,
You’ll get no promotion flying over the ocean,
So cheer up my lads f*ck em all
Now they say that the Shack is a mighty fine kite,
This we no longer doubt,
When you’re in the air with a Mig on your tail,
This is the way to get out,
Da, da, da, da, daaar (Sung while holding the arms outstretched as wings and jinking furiously. As if.)
Just keep cool just keep calm keep sedate, mate
Don’t let your British blood boil! (Sung with a very exaggerated posh accent)
Don’t hesitate shove ‘em straight through the gate,
And smother the b*stards in oil!
Apologies for mistakes and omissions. Brain damaged by too much beer and vibration induced orgasms...
*************************************
Per ardua ad astradome
[This message has been edited by Blacksheep (edited 19 June 2001).]
Shackletons don’t bother me!
Shackletons don’t bother me!
Clapped out abortions with flaps on their Wings,
Damn their propellors and their piston rings,
For we’re saying goodbye to them all, (a much too premature hope!)
Three fifths of five eighths of f*ck all,
You’ll get no promotion flying over the ocean,
So cheer up my lads f*ck em all
Now they say that the Shack is a mighty fine kite,
This we no longer doubt,
When you’re in the air with a Mig on your tail,
This is the way to get out,
Da, da, da, da, daaar (Sung while holding the arms outstretched as wings and jinking furiously. As if.)
Just keep cool just keep calm keep sedate, mate
Don’t let your British blood boil! (Sung with a very exaggerated posh accent)
Don’t hesitate shove ‘em straight through the gate,
And smother the b*stards in oil!
Apologies for mistakes and omissions. Brain damaged by too much beer and vibration induced orgasms...
*************************************
Per ardua ad astradome
[This message has been edited by Blacksheep (edited 19 June 2001).]
Cunning Artificer
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Then there's the old FEAF anthem...
If you go down to old Penang,
looking for a Chinese bang,
Rickshaw wallah,
he will holler,
"Jigga-jig-jig for Malayan dollar."
With a rum and cocaah-cola.
Up your fat are-so-lah.
Mother and daughter,
rooting for Malayan dollar.
Early next morning you go sick,
show the M.O. your festering prick.
He says "Son.
You've got Ghon.
Fifteen needles up your bum"
With a rum etc.
All you moonies better take note,
its a f*cking long time before your boat.
If you wanna stay pure and sweet,
stay away from Bugis street.
With a rum etc.
Usually followed by the brothel song.
But THAT belongs on Jet Blast...
**********************************
THrough difficulties to the cinema
If you go down to old Penang,
looking for a Chinese bang,
Rickshaw wallah,
he will holler,
"Jigga-jig-jig for Malayan dollar."
With a rum and cocaah-cola.
Up your fat are-so-lah.
Mother and daughter,
rooting for Malayan dollar.
Early next morning you go sick,
show the M.O. your festering prick.
He says "Son.
You've got Ghon.
Fifteen needles up your bum"
With a rum etc.
All you moonies better take note,
its a f*cking long time before your boat.
If you wanna stay pure and sweet,
stay away from Bugis street.
With a rum etc.
Usually followed by the brothel song.
But THAT belongs on Jet Blast...
**********************************
THrough difficulties to the cinema
Guest
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Taking a side trip to the southern hemisphere, this is one which has been used to good effect by a number of RW squadrons, basically asserting that if you can't hover, then you're a poof.
Aussie and Kiwi rotorheads who served with the MFO Sinai will be familiar with it, from many a drunken SWAS (Sinai Wine Appreciation Society):
(to the tune of The Road to Gundagai)
Chorus "If you don't wok for fun, you take it up the bum, we are the boys from (insert squadron name here)"
Then there's the trashies, they are rather camp, but we know where they take it, they take it up the ramp!
Chorus
Then there's the triple ones, with their moving wing, but we know where they take it cos' they don't complete the swing!
Chorus
Then there's the Army, they are a bunch of boys, they all fly around in teeny weeny toys...
Chorus
There are heaps more, but I forget 'em.
Aussie and Kiwi rotorheads who served with the MFO Sinai will be familiar with it, from many a drunken SWAS (Sinai Wine Appreciation Society):
(to the tune of The Road to Gundagai)
Chorus "If you don't wok for fun, you take it up the bum, we are the boys from (insert squadron name here)"
Then there's the trashies, they are rather camp, but we know where they take it, they take it up the ramp!
Chorus
Then there's the triple ones, with their moving wing, but we know where they take it cos' they don't complete the swing!
Chorus
Then there's the Army, they are a bunch of boys, they all fly around in teeny weeny toys...
Chorus
There are heaps more, but I forget 'em.
Guest
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Old Pinger,
IIRC, Rotaree was penned by Andy Lovesy and Ken Lamprey, back on 826 during Eagle's last cruise. Other noted songsmiths from 826 were Messrs Thorpe & Fish, but since they were GL they tried to keep it quiet. I've got all the old squadron song sheets from 824 (Ark) and 814 (Hermes when she was a very unhappy ship), lots of oldies.
Must dig out the tin trunk, heaps more song sheets there. I've even got a copy of the ditty sung by the Fisheads on the final dinner aboard Eagle, accompanied by the RM Band, singing the praises of us wafoos!
IIRC, Rotaree was penned by Andy Lovesy and Ken Lamprey, back on 826 during Eagle's last cruise. Other noted songsmiths from 826 were Messrs Thorpe & Fish, but since they were GL they tried to keep it quiet. I've got all the old squadron song sheets from 824 (Ark) and 814 (Hermes when she was a very unhappy ship), lots of oldies.
Must dig out the tin trunk, heaps more song sheets there. I've even got a copy of the ditty sung by the Fisheads on the final dinner aboard Eagle, accompanied by the RM Band, singing the praises of us wafoos!
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One of my favourites (songs that is)
Don't bend down when a Jag mate's around,
he might put his willy up yer bum,
he'll keep going he won't stop slowing,
till his knob end is red and glowing,
he'll tease you and squeeze you,
do anything to please you,
try and find an orifice that fits,
for Tornados aren't fighters,
we're not queer blighters,
and Jag mates are bum bandits da da da da da,
Jag mates are bum bandits da da da.
They fly so high, they fly so low,
they fly so low they often hit the ground,
they drop bombs and take nice piccys,
feel men's bottoms and su*k their willys,
They'll tease you and squeeze you,
do anything to please you, try and find an orifice that fits,
for Tornados aren't fighters,
we're not queer blighters,
and Jag mates are bum bandits da da da da da
Jag mates are bum bandits da da da.
The Jag soldiers on,
but it soon will be gone,
the Eurofighter's just around the bend,
it's really good and better than a Flanker,
but it still will be flown by a W*nker,
who'll tease you and squeeze you,
do anything to please you,
try and find an orifice that fits,
for Tornados aren't fighters,
we're not queer blighters,
and jag mates are bum bandits da da da da da,
Jag mates are bum bamdits da da da da.
No offence intended!
Don't bend down when a Jag mate's around,
he might put his willy up yer bum,
he'll keep going he won't stop slowing,
till his knob end is red and glowing,
he'll tease you and squeeze you,
do anything to please you,
try and find an orifice that fits,
for Tornados aren't fighters,
we're not queer blighters,
and Jag mates are bum bandits da da da da da,
Jag mates are bum bandits da da da.
They fly so high, they fly so low,
they fly so low they often hit the ground,
they drop bombs and take nice piccys,
feel men's bottoms and su*k their willys,
They'll tease you and squeeze you,
do anything to please you, try and find an orifice that fits,
for Tornados aren't fighters,
we're not queer blighters,
and Jag mates are bum bandits da da da da da
Jag mates are bum bandits da da da.
The Jag soldiers on,
but it soon will be gone,
the Eurofighter's just around the bend,
it's really good and better than a Flanker,
but it still will be flown by a W*nker,
who'll tease you and squeeze you,
do anything to please you,
try and find an orifice that fits,
for Tornados aren't fighters,
we're not queer blighters,
and jag mates are bum bandits da da da da da,
Jag mates are bum bamdits da da da da.
No offence intended!
Guest
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Well, I think certain PPruners out there will agree that the songs listed so far are OK....but you can't beat the real thing
Some FOLA IN CONFIDENCE songs...
Aerospaciale:
The PUMA aircraft, give it a chance...
A plastic Wessex, it comes from France.
Aerospaciale, the say it works....
But we know better, it's fown by jerks!
The Army Song:
There's an Army aircraft airbourne
to the south of Crossmaglen.
It's a funny looking aircaft
flown by funny looking men.
And its wings are put on sideways
but they don't go round at all.
Spends its whole time taking pictures
flying just above the stall
It's been fired upon by gunmen
as it bimbles around the sky.
This is really not surprizing
since Pongoes weren't designed to fly.
Still, we need a better aircraft
and it's plain to me and you
that it's better done by Wessex
and the boys of 72.
F**KING GREAT WRACs
There's nothing as nice as going round twice
when you're trying to get in down at Bessbrook.
And it's twice as rough with the wind up your chuff
when you're trying to get in down at Bessbrook.
There're big loads and small loads and sorts of pax.
Booties and pongoes and f**king great WRACs.
And sometimes on Sundays there's bodies in sacks
When you're messing about down at Bessbrook.
The places we go would give you a fright
'cos with choppers like ours it's often quite tight.
and the worst thing of all is a tight one at night
when you're messing about down at Bessbrook.
And it's twice as rough with the wind up your chuff
when you're messing about down at Bessbrook.
Some FOLA IN CONFIDENCE songs...
Aerospaciale:
The PUMA aircraft, give it a chance...
A plastic Wessex, it comes from France.
Aerospaciale, the say it works....
But we know better, it's fown by jerks!
The Army Song:
There's an Army aircraft airbourne
to the south of Crossmaglen.
It's a funny looking aircaft
flown by funny looking men.
And its wings are put on sideways
but they don't go round at all.
Spends its whole time taking pictures
flying just above the stall
It's been fired upon by gunmen
as it bimbles around the sky.
This is really not surprizing
since Pongoes weren't designed to fly.
Still, we need a better aircraft
and it's plain to me and you
that it's better done by Wessex
and the boys of 72.
F**KING GREAT WRACs
There's nothing as nice as going round twice
when you're trying to get in down at Bessbrook.
And it's twice as rough with the wind up your chuff
when you're trying to get in down at Bessbrook.
There're big loads and small loads and sorts of pax.
Booties and pongoes and f**king great WRACs.
And sometimes on Sundays there's bodies in sacks
When you're messing about down at Bessbrook.
The places we go would give you a fright
'cos with choppers like ours it's often quite tight.
and the worst thing of all is a tight one at night
when you're messing about down at Bessbrook.
And it's twice as rough with the wind up your chuff
when you're messing about down at Bessbrook.
Guest
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I've never sung it sober, let alone typed it out, here goes...
One night in Gay Paris
I paid five francs to see
A tattooed French Lady
Tattooed from head to knee
And on her jaw, was a British Man of War
And on her back was a Union Jack
So I paid five francs more
And up and down her spine
Was the (insert sqn, regt etc) in line
And on her lilly white bum bum bum
Was a picture of the rising sun sun sun
And on her fanny
Was Al Jolson singing Mammy (with actions)
How I loves her
How I loves her
How I loves my Mother in Law
I love my Mother in Law
She’s nothing but a f**king great whore
She nags me day ang night night night
I can’t get f**k all right right right
She’s coming round tommorrow
I hope she stays away
Isn’t it a pity she’s only one titty
And she’s in the family way
Last night I greased the stairs
Put tacks on all the chairs
I hope she breaks her back back back
‘Cos I do like wearing black black black
She’s fine, she’s dandy
And she makes my dog feel randy
How I loves her
How I loves her
How I loves my Mother in Law
I know the tune, but don't know if it's borrowed or not, sorry Snapshot
One night in Gay Paris
I paid five francs to see
A tattooed French Lady
Tattooed from head to knee
And on her jaw, was a British Man of War
And on her back was a Union Jack
So I paid five francs more
And up and down her spine
Was the (insert sqn, regt etc) in line
And on her lilly white bum bum bum
Was a picture of the rising sun sun sun
And on her fanny
Was Al Jolson singing Mammy (with actions)
How I loves her
How I loves her
How I loves my Mother in Law
I love my Mother in Law
She’s nothing but a f**king great whore
She nags me day ang night night night
I can’t get f**k all right right right
She’s coming round tommorrow
I hope she stays away
Isn’t it a pity she’s only one titty
And she’s in the family way
Last night I greased the stairs
Put tacks on all the chairs
I hope she breaks her back back back
‘Cos I do like wearing black black black
She’s fine, she’s dandy
And she makes my dog feel randy
How I loves her
How I loves her
How I loves my Mother in Law
I know the tune, but don't know if it's borrowed or not, sorry Snapshot
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John Eacott
Any chance of emailing some more of the verses of Rotaree? or posting them on this thread?
There is in existance a fleet arm songbook, I used to have a copy- put out by FAA museum a while ago, full of EXTREMELY
non PC songs- exactly what's required! no mention of the Tampax factory however....Best version I saw lasted for over half an hour with lots of 'interesting' verses.
Any chance of emailing some more of the verses of Rotaree? or posting them on this thread?
There is in existance a fleet arm songbook, I used to have a copy- put out by FAA museum a while ago, full of EXTREMELY
non PC songs- exactly what's required! no mention of the Tampax factory however....Best version I saw lasted for over half an hour with lots of 'interesting' verses.
Guest
Posts: n/a
One especially for Snapshot, to the tune of "The Gasman Cometh". Penned by 801 NAS on Eagle, about 1970, when the crabs still considered the Buccaneer not suited to their tasking
'Twas on a Monday morning, the first launch was at eight
Six Vixens were to be launched, but five of them were late,
There was panic up in Flyco, they didn't know what to do,
So they launched the five spare Buccaneers to do what Vixens do.
Chorus: Oh it all makes work for the Buccaneer to doo-oo-oo-oo-oooo
'Twas on a Tuesday morning, a Gannet on low-see,
Sent to find a Krupny, which was far out at sea,
When suddenly his APS-20 went for a ball of chalk,
So they called on the Buccaneers to do the Gannet's work.
'Twas on a Wednesday morning, the choppers should have dunked,
But they got their balls in a twist and the sorties would have flunked,
When someone shouted "801 - they've never known defeat"
So they called upon a Buccaneer with it's underwater seat.
'Twas on a Thursday morning, there was some mail ashore,
The COD was in Fly One, U/S would fly no more,
The engineers were working hard, 'twas all to no avail,
So they called upon the Buccaneers to go and fetch the mail.
'Twas on a Friday morning the tankers could not fly,
The Army wanted air support but nobody knew why,
We launched the "on call" Buccaneer - that ever useful plane,
And flew ashore and blew the **** to hell and back again.
Now Saturday and Sunday are our days of rest,
The Vixens and the Gannets on the flight deck doing tests,
The Buccaneers are down below all handsome and sedate,
Awaiting Monday morning when the first launch is at eight
'Twas on a Monday morning, the first launch was at eight
Six Vixens were to be launched, but five of them were late,
There was panic up in Flyco, they didn't know what to do,
So they launched the five spare Buccaneers to do what Vixens do.
Chorus: Oh it all makes work for the Buccaneer to doo-oo-oo-oo-oooo
'Twas on a Tuesday morning, a Gannet on low-see,
Sent to find a Krupny, which was far out at sea,
When suddenly his APS-20 went for a ball of chalk,
So they called on the Buccaneers to do the Gannet's work.
'Twas on a Wednesday morning, the choppers should have dunked,
But they got their balls in a twist and the sorties would have flunked,
When someone shouted "801 - they've never known defeat"
So they called upon a Buccaneer with it's underwater seat.
'Twas on a Thursday morning, there was some mail ashore,
The COD was in Fly One, U/S would fly no more,
The engineers were working hard, 'twas all to no avail,
So they called upon the Buccaneers to go and fetch the mail.
'Twas on a Friday morning the tankers could not fly,
The Army wanted air support but nobody knew why,
We launched the "on call" Buccaneer - that ever useful plane,
And flew ashore and blew the **** to hell and back again.
Now Saturday and Sunday are our days of rest,
The Vixens and the Gannets on the flight deck doing tests,
The Buccaneers are down below all handsome and sedate,
Awaiting Monday morning when the first launch is at eight
Guest
Posts: n/a
OP,
I'll try to dig out the Rotaree, but here are a couple from 826/824 (one was mine, but I'll let you choose
)
SOBS dreams of Shakespeare
Once more into the dip, 54, once more
Or forever roam our sector counting green grenades;
For nothing more becomes a crew than TIGHTLIP (Cept the stovies)
But when a racket is within a hundred miles
Then out with the plotting boards, engage transition up,
And dangle our balls forty miles ahead,
Crying God, for SOBS, Ark and 824.
To the tune of Lumber Jack:
Group A:
I'm a Sea King chap and I'm OK
I fly all night
And I sleep all day
Group B:
He's a Sea King chap and he's OK
He flies all night
And he sleeps all day
A:
I go to brief
I get dressed up
With mae west and a boat
And if I ditch my Sea King
I hope like hell I float
B:
ETC,
I stay aloft
I fly around
For four long hours or more
And when its time to Charlie
My arse is bleeding sore
I get undressed
I bathe and scrub
And then I go to the mess
I drink my nine tots daily
And seldom have much less
I eat my food
I drink my ale
I've put on several pounds
But if the doctor weighed me
He'd keep me on the ground
I hate grey ships
I hate fixed wing
I hate the whole damned scene
I'm only really happy
When I fly my big machine.
[This message has been edited by John Eacott (edited 21 June 2001).]
I'll try to dig out the Rotaree, but here are a couple from 826/824 (one was mine, but I'll let you choose
)SOBS dreams of Shakespeare
Once more into the dip, 54, once more
Or forever roam our sector counting green grenades;
For nothing more becomes a crew than TIGHTLIP (Cept the stovies)
But when a racket is within a hundred miles
Then out with the plotting boards, engage transition up,
And dangle our balls forty miles ahead,
Crying God, for SOBS, Ark and 824.
To the tune of Lumber Jack:
Group A:
I'm a Sea King chap and I'm OK
I fly all night
And I sleep all day
Group B:
He's a Sea King chap and he's OK
He flies all night
And he sleeps all day
A:
I go to brief
I get dressed up
With mae west and a boat
And if I ditch my Sea King
I hope like hell I float
B:
ETC,
I stay aloft
I fly around
For four long hours or more
And when its time to Charlie
My arse is bleeding sore
I get undressed
I bathe and scrub
And then I go to the mess
I drink my nine tots daily
And seldom have much less
I eat my food
I drink my ale
I've put on several pounds
But if the doctor weighed me
He'd keep me on the ground
I hate grey ships
I hate fixed wing
I hate the whole damned scene
I'm only really happy
When I fly my big machine.
[This message has been edited by John Eacott (edited 21 June 2001).]
Guest
Posts: n/a
Back in the CV days, 824 suffered something shocking trying to get a spot back on Ark's deck after the stovie's had finished playing. Wasn't unknown to sit in the wait for a half hour, then watch the carrier turn 90 deg out of wind before remembering the Sea King sitting in the Starboard wait, out of sight, out of mind.
Channel One Blues (tune: Grand Cooley Dam)
X-ray Sierra Flyco this is Sea King Oh - five - two
I've sat here in the starboard wait at least an hour or two
I'm getting low on fuel, Oh Flyco won't you speak
I'd rather land upon fly three than sit here all dam week
Five-two this is Flyco we're in an awful mess
The Buccaneers are boltin and a Phantom's in the nets
A Gannet's stuck half up the lift its getting out of hand
You'll have to stick around some more there ain't no room to land
X-Ray Sierra Flyco this is Sea King Oh-Five-Two
I've got a massive oil leak, hydraulic failure too
The engines have stopped turning and the water's getting near
Flyco won't you tell me, when will the deck be clear?
52 this is Flyco, now don't break out in tears
There just isn't evidence to justify your fears
Just keep that chopper flying, don't let it come to grief
You're not allowed to ditch the thing, it isn't in your brief
X-Ray Sierra Flyco your last was just too late
We're sitting in the water now, still in the starboard wait,
It's true a chopper flier's life is not a happy one
But we will still be flying when the last fixed wing is gone.
Channel One Blues (tune: Grand Cooley Dam)
X-ray Sierra Flyco this is Sea King Oh - five - two
I've sat here in the starboard wait at least an hour or two
I'm getting low on fuel, Oh Flyco won't you speak
I'd rather land upon fly three than sit here all dam week
Five-two this is Flyco we're in an awful mess
The Buccaneers are boltin and a Phantom's in the nets
A Gannet's stuck half up the lift its getting out of hand
You'll have to stick around some more there ain't no room to land
X-Ray Sierra Flyco this is Sea King Oh-Five-Two
I've got a massive oil leak, hydraulic failure too
The engines have stopped turning and the water's getting near
Flyco won't you tell me, when will the deck be clear?
52 this is Flyco, now don't break out in tears
There just isn't evidence to justify your fears
Just keep that chopper flying, don't let it come to grief
You're not allowed to ditch the thing, it isn't in your brief
X-Ray Sierra Flyco your last was just too late
We're sitting in the water now, still in the starboard wait,
It's true a chopper flier's life is not a happy one
But we will still be flying when the last fixed wing is gone.
Guest
Posts: n/a
Last one before I get on with work 
The Vixen squadrons penned a new verse for every aviator who got the chop flying a Vixen, or who was an ex Vixen crew. This was their memorial, tune: We're Moving On.
Hear the patter of tiny feet,
It's 899 in full retreat.
Chorus:
We're moving on, we'll soon be gone,
For we get more chops than the choppers and the props,
We're moving on.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
If the devil don't get you then the Vixen must.
Chorus
High on the meatball, throttled right back,
That was the end of Andy and Mac.
Chorus
Overshot from an ACR7,
Turned downwind on the road to Heaven.
Chorus
If you don't do your checks, then you're a sap,
Down the cat, panels in your lap.
Chorus
Nightgloworm - they're out of reach,
Last recovery on Chesil Beach.
Chorus
I pull it tight, I've got dash,
I'm an Admiral's son so I can't crash.
Chorus
Night cat launches make me frown,
Selman's OK but poor old Brown.
Chorus
Cress and Jim tried to glo,
Now they're gone and cold as snow.
Chorus
Ronald and Rog, made a bog,
Turned for home and hit the Og.
Chorus
Try on the clothes of your late best pal,
If the cap fits - then wear it AL.
Chorus
Chivenor circuit - horsing it round,
Pulled too hard and they hit the ground.
Chorus
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose,
Standby live, it's a VT fuse.
Chorus
Now Vixen seats they aint the best,
But they sure put medals on the pilot's chest.
Chorus
On a 1V1 he tried to track,
But a mountain came between the bogie and Jack.
Chorus
Poor little Crab - thought the Navy was cissy,
Went to the Arrows, speared in at Rissy.
Chorus
You ain't exempt if you've got three rings,
You don't fly a Prince if it ain't got wings.
Chorus
First cat launch on a Friday morn,
Over rotated and Bruce was gone.
Chorus
There was Alec and Pip in the goldfish bowl,
Looked out the window, God rest their souls.
Chorus
Captain and Padre at the door,
"Oh" says the wife "What a goddamn bore".
Chorus
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,
We all get pissed and another one crashes.
A Vixen's Made For Pitch Up
(Tune: These boots are made for walking)
You keep saying that you're pretty steely,
That there's nothing flying that you can't hack
But one day you'll overstep the line child,
And that's when a Vixen's gonna bite right back.
Chorus:
'Cos a Vixen's made for pitch up,
And that's just what it'll do,
And one of these days a Vixen's
Gonna Pitch right up on you.
Pull it really hard and tight on finals,
Hear the Looker babbling with fright,
Speed 120, ADD's a burbling,
But still you manfully call out "on sight".
Chorus.
Well you tell me how much you love flying,
But the way you're flying now fills me with gloom,
And when in the wreckage they find you a-dyin'
They're gonna write these words upon your tomb:
Chorus
[This message has been edited by John Eacott (edited 25 June 2001).]
The Vixen squadrons penned a new verse for every aviator who got the chop flying a Vixen, or who was an ex Vixen crew. This was their memorial, tune: We're Moving On.
Hear the patter of tiny feet,
It's 899 in full retreat.
Chorus:
We're moving on, we'll soon be gone,
For we get more chops than the choppers and the props,
We're moving on.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
If the devil don't get you then the Vixen must.
Chorus
High on the meatball, throttled right back,
That was the end of Andy and Mac.
Chorus
Overshot from an ACR7,
Turned downwind on the road to Heaven.
Chorus
If you don't do your checks, then you're a sap,
Down the cat, panels in your lap.
Chorus
Nightgloworm - they're out of reach,
Last recovery on Chesil Beach.
Chorus
I pull it tight, I've got dash,
I'm an Admiral's son so I can't crash.
Chorus
Night cat launches make me frown,
Selman's OK but poor old Brown.
Chorus
Cress and Jim tried to glo,
Now they're gone and cold as snow.
Chorus
Ronald and Rog, made a bog,
Turned for home and hit the Og.
Chorus
Try on the clothes of your late best pal,
If the cap fits - then wear it AL.
Chorus
Chivenor circuit - horsing it round,
Pulled too hard and they hit the ground.
Chorus
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose,
Standby live, it's a VT fuse.
Chorus
Now Vixen seats they aint the best,
But they sure put medals on the pilot's chest.
Chorus
On a 1V1 he tried to track,
But a mountain came between the bogie and Jack.
Chorus
Poor little Crab - thought the Navy was cissy,
Went to the Arrows, speared in at Rissy.
Chorus
You ain't exempt if you've got three rings,
You don't fly a Prince if it ain't got wings.
Chorus
First cat launch on a Friday morn,
Over rotated and Bruce was gone.
Chorus
There was Alec and Pip in the goldfish bowl,
Looked out the window, God rest their souls.
Chorus
Captain and Padre at the door,
"Oh" says the wife "What a goddamn bore".
Chorus
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,
We all get pissed and another one crashes.
A Vixen's Made For Pitch Up
(Tune: These boots are made for walking)
You keep saying that you're pretty steely,
That there's nothing flying that you can't hack
But one day you'll overstep the line child,
And that's when a Vixen's gonna bite right back.
Chorus:
'Cos a Vixen's made for pitch up,
And that's just what it'll do,
And one of these days a Vixen's
Gonna Pitch right up on you.
Pull it really hard and tight on finals,
Hear the Looker babbling with fright,
Speed 120, ADD's a burbling,
But still you manfully call out "on sight".
Chorus.
Well you tell me how much you love flying,
But the way you're flying now fills me with gloom,
And when in the wreckage they find you a-dyin'
They're gonna write these words upon your tomb:
Chorus
[This message has been edited by John Eacott (edited 25 June 2001).]
Guest
Posts: n/a
John E,
How you find time to locate and submit all this lot while running your Essendon operation beats me - long may you continue. Many thanks for a very entertaining hour when I was in Oz earlier this month; I was enjoying the visit so much I clean forgot to ask some of the questions I had stored up.
I'm surprised there's been so little mention of the SH Songbook, which used to be available many moons ago from PSI shops various. OK, some of it was deriviative but there was a fair amount that was original. I was a JP while O'B, Pablo and the other members of the Gang of 4 (there were about 7 of them at the last count..) spent their time on standby putting these together. At least, that's why they told me I had to do their slots 'cos they were so busy, and I believed them. Apparently, there's no such word as gullible in the dictionary either - must go and check...
How you find time to locate and submit all this lot while running your Essendon operation beats me - long may you continue. Many thanks for a very entertaining hour when I was in Oz earlier this month; I was enjoying the visit so much I clean forgot to ask some of the questions I had stored up.
I'm surprised there's been so little mention of the SH Songbook, which used to be available many moons ago from PSI shops various. OK, some of it was deriviative but there was a fair amount that was original. I was a JP while O'B, Pablo and the other members of the Gang of 4 (there were about 7 of them at the last count..) spent their time on standby putting these together. At least, that's why they told me I had to do their slots 'cos they were so busy, and I believed them. Apparently, there's no such word as gullible in the dictionary either - must go and check...
Guest
Posts: n/a
Thud,
Thanks for the visit, nice to have seen you!
Here's another oldie,
Six Night Traps
(Tune: Sixteen Tons)
Chorus:
You do six night traps and what do you get
Fully night qualified and covered in sweat,
Now Wingsy don’t you bug me, ‘cos Little F’s enough,
If you want to fly in Ark Royal, you’ve gotta be tough,
I was born one night on the end of zero nine,
The taxi lights weren’t working and the Meatball didn’t shine
My Daddy was a Venom pilot, so I heard tell,
My Mummy was a Wren who the aircrew called Nell
Chorus
One night we threw the LSO over the side,
A lot of men had heeded him, a lot of men had died,
Wreckage on the flight deck, metal, oil and foam
And back on the round down, there was flesh and blood and bone
Chorus
Sometimes a man gets weary with the Staff all around
Always criticising with their feet upon the ground
SAVO and FOCAS - makes a boy cry
Just ancient bums who have forgotten how to fly
Chorus
Thanks for the visit, nice to have seen you!
Here's another oldie,
Six Night Traps
(Tune: Sixteen Tons)
Chorus:
You do six night traps and what do you get
Fully night qualified and covered in sweat,
Now Wingsy don’t you bug me, ‘cos Little F’s enough,
If you want to fly in Ark Royal, you’ve gotta be tough,
I was born one night on the end of zero nine,
The taxi lights weren’t working and the Meatball didn’t shine
My Daddy was a Venom pilot, so I heard tell,
My Mummy was a Wren who the aircrew called Nell
Chorus
One night we threw the LSO over the side,
A lot of men had heeded him, a lot of men had died,
Wreckage on the flight deck, metal, oil and foam
And back on the round down, there was flesh and blood and bone
Chorus
Sometimes a man gets weary with the Staff all around
Always criticising with their feet upon the ground
SAVO and FOCAS - makes a boy cry
Just ancient bums who have forgotten how to fly
Chorus