The Dying Aviator

A typical boozing song of the Royal Flying Corps, full of the black humour of the day...

A young aviator lay dying,
At the end of a bright summer's day (summer's day).
His comrades had gathered around him,
To carry his fragments away.

The aeroplane was piled on his wishbone,
His Lewis was wrapped round his head (his head).
He wore a spark plug in each elbow,
'Twas plain he would shortly be dead.

He spat out a valve and a gasket,
As he stirred in the sump where he lay (he lay),
And then to his wondering comrades
These brave parting words did he say:

'Take the manifold out of my larynx,
And the butterfly-valve off my neck (my neck).
Remove from my kidneys the camrods,
There's a lot of good parts in this wreck.

'Take the piston rings out of my stomach,
And the cylinders out of my brain (my brain).
Extract from my liver the crankshaft,
And assemble the engine again!

'Pull the longeron out of my backbone,
The turnbuckle out of my ear (my ear).
From the small of my back take the rudder-
There's all of your aeroplane here.

'I'll be riding a cloud in the morning,
With no rotary before me to cuss (to cuss).
Take the lead from your feet and get busy,
There's another lad needing the bus!'

Apparently from 'R.F.C. Rhymes' in Popular Flying via The Crowded Sky, An Anthology of Flight, edited by Neville Duke and Edward Latchberry...


Should have more to be doing on Paddy's Day, this 17 March 1998...