PILOTING DADDY’S BUICK
I would pilot Daddy’s buick
It was my Lancaster true
Hoodycloak my airmans’ tunic
Bomber commander in the blue
Sat high on his thigh
Lets climb the sky!
Legs wide on his lap
His arms safety strap
Let’s take off he said
My fists to gear shift sped
Then wheeled with delight
Yanking gear shift at right
Then shudder and shake
Caused by hands in full take
For some grinding screech
Put Dad in full speech
Son that’s your first crash
Put the keys on the dash
You’ll need some flight learning
To become more discerning
Or something such said
Thank God we weren’t dead!
