Forwarded to me from fellow Buccaneer, Knfe. Enjoy.
THE LAST FIGHTER PILOT
He was born in the skies over France back in nineteen-sixteen.
A daring young man in a flimsy old flying machine.
Ed Rickenbacker, The Baron, Frank Luke and the rest,
paving the high road for those whom would follow the quest.
In the twenties and thirties he stood against short-sighted men
Who clipped back his wings, saying they'd never need him again.
Then he strapped on a Spitfire and climbed in the bright English blue,
To the cheers of the many who owed so much to the few.
From the white cliffs of Dover to islands of jungle and sand,
An entire world at war, but for him it was man versus man.
And when it was over he stood against short-sighted men
Who clipped back his wings, saying they'd never need him again.
He climbed in a Sabre and flew through the Korean sky,
Up to MiG Alley with courage to fight and to die.
Then in Thud and in Phantom he called down the thunder again,
But this one was different, they wouldn't allow him to win.
And when it was over he stood against short-sighted men
Who clipped back his wings, saying they'd never need him again.
The last fighter pilot is just like the first of his kind,
And when duty calls he's the first to step over the line.
A child of the heavens, a grandson and son of the best,
Still riding the high road, still trying to follow the quest.
And as the century passes he stands against short-sighted men
Who've clipped back his wings, saying they'll never need him again.
For you short-sighted bastards who kill with the stroke of a pen,
He stands at the ready, 'till the day that you need him again!
H A W C
Hardy & Associates Warfare Consultants
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Sabre, a.k.a. Rojo
(S-2, The Buccaneers)
