On a lighter note - 'Flying Songs'
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On a lighter note - 'Flying Songs'
Has anyone any 'military' songs, especially flying? More often than not, they're a touche cynical or sardonic, but that goes with the territory. I'll start.
This was written when I served on RAF Hercules.
For the nostalgic amongst us who remember crud and custard Fat Albert, this song was written around the time the new centre wing section was added (Mod 29). The aircraft were then painted grey and green during the process.
For the really sad, who remember, at the time we had an ongoing problem with New York Air Brake hydraulic pumps which had a penchant for breaking up – these were replaced with Vickers pumps which had a temperature activated run around system, unfortunately could result in no hyd pressure – an aircraft wasn’t allowed to have all Vickers pumps if memory serves.
This (slightly cynical) song was written to the melody Greensleeves (what else?). Enjoy
This was written when I served on RAF Hercules.
For the nostalgic amongst us who remember crud and custard Fat Albert, this song was written around the time the new centre wing section was added (Mod 29). The aircraft were then painted grey and green during the process.
For the really sad, who remember, at the time we had an ongoing problem with New York Air Brake hydraulic pumps which had a penchant for breaking up – these were replaced with Vickers pumps which had a temperature activated run around system, unfortunately could result in no hyd pressure – an aircraft wasn’t allowed to have all Vickers pumps if memory serves.
This (slightly cynical) song was written to the melody Greensleeves (what else?). Enjoy
GreenWings (Mod 29 embodied)
I volunteered for Hercules
For some airline training and more Duty Free
Now that I'm deafened and totally stunned
I wish I had opted for Coastal Command
Chorus
Off to Gander or Gutersloh
Where is it this time?
Do you need to know?
Are they Land Rovers, or are they crates
Or sixty two camouflaged walking freight?
The captain he sits in the left hand seat
Knowing that captains are cream of the fleet
This is the highlight of his career
But no VC10 scraper and a thousand a year
The Co-pilot sulks in a miserable mood
The loady's just told him we've run out of food
To becoming a Captain the Co is quite keen
Instead of a green-suited eating machine
Chorus
The Nav he sits and he grafts all the time
Plotting three star fixes on imaginary lines
"Inertial" nav, he's a boon to the crew
When asked,"Where are we Nav?" says "I haven't a clue"
The Engineer sits by the central console
And nobody knows he does nothing at all
Once every hour he concocts a fuel state
But this only proves that the bastard’s awake
The Loadmaster's characterised by long arms
Gert great big muscles and bugger all charm
His loading is great but his directions are poor
The forklift's just buckled the Ramp and the door
Chorus
Three orange lights! Pumps OFF at the rush
Christ we're stuck here four days with an Hydraulic flush
But we carry four boxes and two rubber wheels
A green towing arm- and all the wrong seals
Ops won’t you please inform the wife
To help minimise the marital strife
Four days at fifty five dollars Co please
I need it to pay my solicitors fees.
Chorus
For some airline training and more Duty Free
Now that I'm deafened and totally stunned
I wish I had opted for Coastal Command
Chorus
Off to Gander or Gutersloh
Where is it this time?
Do you need to know?
Are they Land Rovers, or are they crates
Or sixty two camouflaged walking freight?
The captain he sits in the left hand seat
Knowing that captains are cream of the fleet
This is the highlight of his career
But no VC10 scraper and a thousand a year
The Co-pilot sulks in a miserable mood
The loady's just told him we've run out of food
To becoming a Captain the Co is quite keen
Instead of a green-suited eating machine
Chorus
The Nav he sits and he grafts all the time
Plotting three star fixes on imaginary lines
"Inertial" nav, he's a boon to the crew
When asked,"Where are we Nav?" says "I haven't a clue"
The Engineer sits by the central console
And nobody knows he does nothing at all
Once every hour he concocts a fuel state
But this only proves that the bastard’s awake
The Loadmaster's characterised by long arms
Gert great big muscles and bugger all charm
His loading is great but his directions are poor
The forklift's just buckled the Ramp and the door
Chorus
Three orange lights! Pumps OFF at the rush
Christ we're stuck here four days with an Hydraulic flush
But we carry four boxes and two rubber wheels
A green towing arm- and all the wrong seals
Ops won’t you please inform the wife
To help minimise the marital strife
Four days at fifty five dollars Co please
I need it to pay my solicitors fees.
Chorus
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Just another erk
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Just an old fashioned Avro with old fashioned wings,
and a fuselage tattered and torn.
Old fashioned engines that splutter and roar when the
strain of a long trip is done.
Though she wears no fine fabric or chromium fittings,
there is one thing that makes her divine.
She's safe and she's sound, 'cos she won't leave the ground,
that overweight Avro of mine.
and a fuselage tattered and torn.
Old fashioned engines that splutter and roar when the
strain of a long trip is done.
Though she wears no fine fabric or chromium fittings,
there is one thing that makes her divine.
She's safe and she's sound, 'cos she won't leave the ground,
that overweight Avro of mine.
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The best of the lot: The A25 Song
They say in the Air Force a landing's OK
If the pilot gets out and can still walk away,
But in the Fleet Air Arm the prospect is grim
If the landing's piss-poor and the pilot can't swim.
cho: Cracking show, I'm alive, But I still have to render my A25.
I fly for a living and not just for fun,
I'm not very anxious to hack down a Hun,
And as for deck landings at night in the dark,
As I told Wings this morning,'Blow that for a lark.'
When the batsman gives "lower" I always go higher,
I drift o'er to starboard and prang my Seafire.
The boys in the "Goofers" all think that I'm green,
But I get a commission from Supermarine.
They gave me a Barra to beat up the Fleet,
I shot up the Rodney and Nelson a treat,
I forgot the high mast that sticks out from Formid,
And a seat in the "Goofers" was worth fifty quid.
I thought I was coming in high enough
but I was fifty feet up when the batsman gave "cut",
And loud in my earphones the sweet angels sang:
"'Float, float, foat, float, float, float, float, float, float, float, PRANG!"
When you come o'er the round-down and see Wings' frown
You can safely assume that your hook isn't down.
A dirty great barrier looms up in front,
And you hear Wings shout, "Switch off your engine, you fool!"
The Wings of St Merryn in a "Reliant" one day
Set out for Trelliga for tea for to stay,
But as he got there his engine cut out,
And now all you hear is Wings' painful shout:
I swing down the deck in my Martlet Mark Four,
Loud in my ear-'oles the Cyclone's smooth roar:
"Chuff-clank-clank, chuff-clank-clank, chuff-clank-clank-clink!'
Away wing on pom-pom, away life in Drink
I flew over Jay-pan in my F.O. 2
Taking some pictures, admiring the view,
When up came the flack and I turned round about,
And that's why I sit in my dinghy and shout:
I came back to England and much to my wrath
They gave me some dual in an old Tiger Moth,
Which does fifty-five knots or something fantastic,
Which is bloody good-o on some string and elastic.
One night in the 'Wardroom a subby named Bash,
An awkward young bastard with a ginger moustache,
Said, "Chaps I must drown all my sorrows in gin,
I've been twelve hours ashore and I can't get it in."
I sat in the starter awaiting the kick,
Amusing myself by rotating the stick.
Down came the green flag, the plane gave a cough,
"Gor Blimey," said 'Wings'," he has tossed himself off."
Now in the Luftwaffe they never complain
Since Goering invented the pilotless plane.
They sit in the crew room and sing all the day,
And this is the song that they sing so they say:
The moral of this story is easy to see,
A Fleet Air Arm pilot you never should be,
But stay on the shore and get two rings or three
And go out every night on the piss down at Lee.
Cracking show, I'm alive, But I still have to render my A25.
They say in the Air Force a landing's OK
If the pilot gets out and can still walk away,
But in the Fleet Air Arm the prospect is grim
If the landing's piss-poor and the pilot can't swim.
cho: Cracking show, I'm alive, But I still have to render my A25.
I fly for a living and not just for fun,
I'm not very anxious to hack down a Hun,
And as for deck landings at night in the dark,
As I told Wings this morning,'Blow that for a lark.'
When the batsman gives "lower" I always go higher,
I drift o'er to starboard and prang my Seafire.
The boys in the "Goofers" all think that I'm green,
But I get a commission from Supermarine.
They gave me a Barra to beat up the Fleet,
I shot up the Rodney and Nelson a treat,
I forgot the high mast that sticks out from Formid,
And a seat in the "Goofers" was worth fifty quid.
I thought I was coming in high enough
but I was fifty feet up when the batsman gave "cut",
And loud in my earphones the sweet angels sang:
"'Float, float, foat, float, float, float, float, float, float, float, PRANG!"
When you come o'er the round-down and see Wings' frown
You can safely assume that your hook isn't down.
A dirty great barrier looms up in front,
And you hear Wings shout, "Switch off your engine, you fool!"
The Wings of St Merryn in a "Reliant" one day
Set out for Trelliga for tea for to stay,
But as he got there his engine cut out,
And now all you hear is Wings' painful shout:
I swing down the deck in my Martlet Mark Four,
Loud in my ear-'oles the Cyclone's smooth roar:
"Chuff-clank-clank, chuff-clank-clank, chuff-clank-clank-clink!'
Away wing on pom-pom, away life in Drink
I flew over Jay-pan in my F.O. 2
Taking some pictures, admiring the view,
When up came the flack and I turned round about,
And that's why I sit in my dinghy and shout:
I came back to England and much to my wrath
They gave me some dual in an old Tiger Moth,
Which does fifty-five knots or something fantastic,
Which is bloody good-o on some string and elastic.
One night in the 'Wardroom a subby named Bash,
An awkward young bastard with a ginger moustache,
Said, "Chaps I must drown all my sorrows in gin,
I've been twelve hours ashore and I can't get it in."
I sat in the starter awaiting the kick,
Amusing myself by rotating the stick.
Down came the green flag, the plane gave a cough,
"Gor Blimey," said 'Wings'," he has tossed himself off."
Now in the Luftwaffe they never complain
Since Goering invented the pilotless plane.
They sit in the crew room and sing all the day,
And this is the song that they sing so they say:
The moral of this story is easy to see,
A Fleet Air Arm pilot you never should be,
But stay on the shore and get two rings or three
And go out every night on the piss down at Lee.
Cracking show, I'm alive, But I still have to render my A25.
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After golf a couple of weeks ago, one of our group said something that made me recollect an RAF song that was not cynical nor sardonic, but downright rude. My friend of fighter pilot days grinned and looked at me, and said, "One white one, one black one and one with a bit of ....on.", and he and I fell about laughing.
We couldn't explain it to our colleagues who were retired doctors, civil servants, entertainers, bankers and accountants. I wonder if they have such a sub-culture.
We couldn't explain it to our colleagues who were retired doctors, civil servants, entertainers, bankers and accountants. I wonder if they have such a sub-culture.
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SH Songbook
Glory Camlough Mountain.
'I was feeling pretty stupid cos I didn't have a gun'.
True story of a Wessex crew in Northern Ireland (when everyone was really, really wanky) who got stuck VMC on top of a hill as the fog came rolling in down below in the valley.
Initial euphoria subsided as they realised they had left their gats (Ed: this is street talk for guns, from the Latin, Gatlingus, meaning guns) at home.
No gat, no hope.
Luckily, the pilots in question went on to high rank, and here, in 2011, we have it.
Looking good.
'I was feeling pretty stupid cos I didn't have a gun'.
True story of a Wessex crew in Northern Ireland (when everyone was really, really wanky) who got stuck VMC on top of a hill as the fog came rolling in down below in the valley.
Initial euphoria subsided as they realised they had left their gats (Ed: this is street talk for guns, from the Latin, Gatlingus, meaning guns) at home.
No gat, no hope.
Luckily, the pilots in question went on to high rank, and here, in 2011, we have it.
Looking good.
SH Songbook
SH Songbook
Even has "ANA" and an "Amendments" form - you can email the authors with changes.
lsh
Dog Tired
It was forbidden to sing 'The Flag' in RAFG which is why it was heard every mess nite.
On 208, however:
'When there's a war and we are called for
to chase the Go**y hordes back to their land...'
Best ever.
On 208, however:
'When there's a war and we are called for
to chase the Go**y hordes back to their land...'
Best ever.
Last edited by fantom; 18th Sep 2011 at 20:18.
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Wwvern, it is black before white.
One black one, one white one « This Particularly Rapid, Unintelligible Patter
One black one, one white one « This Particularly Rapid, Unintelligible Patter
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An incident occurred on 269 Squadron at Christmas Island in September 1958.
After a Shack took off with a jury-strut left in one wheel assembly; another was scrambled for a visual inspection of the locked undercarriage, in the rush the crew of the second Shack left both their jury-struts in and so the Detachment was treated to the sight of two aircraft circling the field looking like lame ducks The following song was being sung that evening to the tune of "Island in the Sun".
Shack taxy out from the little hut,
in one wheel was a jury-strut,
Shack take-off into the morning sky,
one wheel hanging, way on high
C h o r u s
Oh Shackleton over the sea,
given to me by the Air Ministry
all my days I will sit and gaze
at your undercarriage that will not raise
Next Shack take-off into the blue,
with undercarriage locked down too
Crew all think it a fuse gone phut,
but everyone know its a jury-strut
(Chorus)
I see Shack going round and round,
Skipper wishing he was on the ground.
When making sure that the door is shut,
always look for the jury-strut
(Chorus)
JohnB
After a Shack took off with a jury-strut left in one wheel assembly; another was scrambled for a visual inspection of the locked undercarriage, in the rush the crew of the second Shack left both their jury-struts in and so the Detachment was treated to the sight of two aircraft circling the field looking like lame ducks The following song was being sung that evening to the tune of "Island in the Sun".
Shack taxy out from the little hut,
in one wheel was a jury-strut,
Shack take-off into the morning sky,
one wheel hanging, way on high
C h o r u s
Oh Shackleton over the sea,
given to me by the Air Ministry
all my days I will sit and gaze
at your undercarriage that will not raise
Next Shack take-off into the blue,
with undercarriage locked down too
Crew all think it a fuse gone phut,
but everyone know its a jury-strut
(Chorus)
I see Shack going round and round,
Skipper wishing he was on the ground.
When making sure that the door is shut,
always look for the jury-strut
(Chorus)
JohnB
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There was a thread a while back with these on.. Found it- "Traditional Squadron Songs", Closed back in 2006
Another couple from the A25
At pinging the Sea King is remarkably sound
It’s wings don’t go out they go round and around
Backwards and forwards and sideways they go
And they don’t give a f$#k if there balls hanging low
CHORUS
They taught me to fly in a Chipmunk T10
I`d fly round and round and then once round again
The mood of the bird made the landing a farce
So I'd go round again and fly straight up my arse
CHORUS
From fixed wing to choppers I quickly moved on
To find it quite safe with no airspeed clocked on
But if your descent is too fast for the flow
Then it's chop chop chop chop and away you will go
CHORUS
And so front line service I finally saw
The pilots were good and I viewed them with awe
But found out the maths were just too much for me
And ‘F%$k it’said Wings some more stores in the sea
CHORUS
I led a formation in LFA2
And lower and lower and lower we flew
Forgot all the wires and the tips of the trees
And a pipe back at base, ‘Let us pray for all three’
CHORUS
There's a bloke an our ship now that everyone knows
Where he gets his rings from Christ only knows
He stands up in Flyco and he rants and shouts
And gobs off about things he knows f%$k all about
CHORUS
They say in the Air Force a missions OK
If you drop all your bombs and can still fly away
But in the Fleet Air Arm they call you a s$#%
If you drop 21 and get only 1 hit
CHORUS
The moral of this story is quite plain to see
A Fleet Air Arm pilot you never should be
But stay on the shore and get two rings or more
And go out on the piss every night with a w###
Another couple from the A25
At pinging the Sea King is remarkably sound
It’s wings don’t go out they go round and around
Backwards and forwards and sideways they go
And they don’t give a f$#k if there balls hanging low
CHORUS
They taught me to fly in a Chipmunk T10
I`d fly round and round and then once round again
The mood of the bird made the landing a farce
So I'd go round again and fly straight up my arse
CHORUS
From fixed wing to choppers I quickly moved on
To find it quite safe with no airspeed clocked on
But if your descent is too fast for the flow
Then it's chop chop chop chop and away you will go
CHORUS
And so front line service I finally saw
The pilots were good and I viewed them with awe
But found out the maths were just too much for me
And ‘F%$k it’said Wings some more stores in the sea
CHORUS
I led a formation in LFA2
And lower and lower and lower we flew
Forgot all the wires and the tips of the trees
And a pipe back at base, ‘Let us pray for all three’
CHORUS
There's a bloke an our ship now that everyone knows
Where he gets his rings from Christ only knows
He stands up in Flyco and he rants and shouts
And gobs off about things he knows f%$k all about
CHORUS
They say in the Air Force a missions OK
If you drop all your bombs and can still fly away
But in the Fleet Air Arm they call you a s$#%
If you drop 21 and get only 1 hit
CHORUS
The moral of this story is quite plain to see
A Fleet Air Arm pilot you never should be
But stay on the shore and get two rings or more
And go out on the piss every night with a w###
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John B
I must admit I smiled when I saw your name.
I had written another Herk song to the melody of Sloop John B called 'En Route Tales'.
It was also reminiscent of going u/s (unserviceable, not American) in the Caribbean (particularly the Nassau Beach Hotel).
Anyone know what melody the A25 song is set to?
I had written another Herk song to the melody of Sloop John B called 'En Route Tales'.
It was also reminiscent of going u/s (unserviceable, not American) in the Caribbean (particularly the Nassau Beach Hotel).
Anyone know what melody the A25 song is set to?
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There was a thread a while back with these on.. Found it- "Traditional Squadron Songs", Closed back in 2006
110 Sqn was one of four RAF sqns flying the Whirlwind 10 in Borneo during Confrontation in the 1960s. This ditty relates their time there.
Nanga Gaat was inherited from the RN, hence the Anchor Inn and the Tokyo was in downtown Kuching.
We bring you a tale of One Hundred and Ten
Of weird whirly birds and far weirder men
The Far East is where these strange deeds were all done
With the aircrew all rapidly ageing
But the strife is all over, the battles are done
And the times they are a changing
T’was at Nanga Gaat that we first found our fame
But now we are told we won't go there again
No more happy nights in the old Anchor Inn
Where we drank till the darkness was fading
Then flew all the day before drinking again
But the times they are a changing
The market place knew down in old Kuching
And many a night that they would all hear us sing
Of Simangang, Sibu, Nanga Gaat and such
And how we all like them so very much
But now we are moving up to Labuan
How the times they are a changing
The Tokyo our custom is now bereft
All our young maidens we have now left
No more nights spent down on good drinking sprees
Our times spent dodging the redcaps
For now we are once more civilised chaps
Gosh the times they are a changing
So live with your memories my merry men
Friar Tuck’s saahnie boxes you’ll ne’re see again
For banished abroad from this fair land are we
Across t’ other side of the ocean
But given the chance would come back again
But the times they are a’ changing
Old-Duffer
Nanga Gaat was inherited from the RN, hence the Anchor Inn and the Tokyo was in downtown Kuching.
SATU RATUS SEPULOH
(The 110 Squadron Song – Origins & Lyricist Unknown. Sung to the tune “The Times They Are A’changin”)
We bring you a tale of One Hundred and Ten
Of weird whirly birds and far weirder men
The Far East is where these strange deeds were all done
With the aircrew all rapidly ageing
But the strife is all over, the battles are done
And the times they are a changing
T’was at Nanga Gaat that we first found our fame
But now we are told we won't go there again
No more happy nights in the old Anchor Inn
Where we drank till the darkness was fading
Then flew all the day before drinking again
But the times they are a changing
The market place knew down in old Kuching
And many a night that they would all hear us sing
Of Simangang, Sibu, Nanga Gaat and such
And how we all like them so very much
But now we are moving up to Labuan
How the times they are a changing
The Tokyo our custom is now bereft
All our young maidens we have now left
No more nights spent down on good drinking sprees
Our times spent dodging the redcaps
For now we are once more civilised chaps
Gosh the times they are a changing
So live with your memories my merry men
Friar Tuck’s saahnie boxes you’ll ne’re see again
For banished abroad from this fair land are we
Across t’ other side of the ocean
But given the chance would come back again
But the times they are a’ changing
Old-Duffer