Let us remember
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scottr5213
- Captain
- Posts: 393
- Joined: 07 Dec 2006, 03:33
- Version: FS9
- Location: Atlanta Ga
Let us remember
The F-15C pilot who died in a midair collision Wednesday over the Gulf of Mexico was 1st Lt. Ali Jivanjee, the 33rd Fighter Wing announced Friday. He was with the 58th Fighter Squadron at Eglin Air Force Base, Fla.
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Jumpshot724
- Major
- Posts: 767
- Joined: 16 Feb 2008, 20:20
- Version: FS9
- Location: New York, USA
Going West Captain Michael J. Larkin, TWA (ret)
I hope there's a place, way up in the sky
Where pilots can go when they have to die.
A place where no doctor or lawyer could tread,
Nor a management-type would e'er be caught dead!
A place where a guy could buy a cold beer
For a friend and a comrade whose memory is dear.
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke.
The kind of place that a lady could go
And feel safe and secure by the men she would know.
There must be a place where old pilots go,
When their wings become heavy, when their airspeed gets low,
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
And songs about flying and dying are sung.
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd 'flown west' before,
And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door,
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
And relate to others, "He was quite a good lad!"
And there, through the mist, you'd spot an old guy
You had not seen in years, though he'd taught you to fly
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm proud that you're here!"
For this is this place where true flyers come
When the battles are over and the wars have been won.
The've come here at last, to be safe and alone,
from the government clerk, and the management clone;
Politicians and lawyers, the Feds, and the noise,
Where all hours are happy, and these good ol' boys
Can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest!
This is Heaven, my son, you've passed your last test!
I hope there's a place, way up in the sky
Where pilots can go when they have to die.
A place where no doctor or lawyer could tread,
Nor a management-type would e'er be caught dead!
A place where a guy could buy a cold beer
For a friend and a comrade whose memory is dear.
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke.
The kind of place that a lady could go
And feel safe and secure by the men she would know.
There must be a place where old pilots go,
When their wings become heavy, when their airspeed gets low,
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
And songs about flying and dying are sung.
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd 'flown west' before,
And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door,
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
And relate to others, "He was quite a good lad!"
And there, through the mist, you'd spot an old guy
You had not seen in years, though he'd taught you to fly
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm proud that you're here!"
For this is this place where true flyers come
When the battles are over and the wars have been won.
The've come here at last, to be safe and alone,
from the government clerk, and the management clone;
Politicians and lawyers, the Feds, and the noise,
Where all hours are happy, and these good ol' boys
Can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest!
This is Heaven, my son, you've passed your last test!