Floatsflyer
12-23-2016, 03:09 PM
"A Chapter of Verse for the Holidays"
Selected verses reproduced here as written by Eleanor Eastick in COPA FLIGHT magazine, December, 2016.
On Christmas Eve the weather was damp,
Beechcraft and Cessna tied down on the ramp
Along with a Luscombe and a battered old Champ
With gust locks in place, no aileron fluttered.
The tower was closed, the windows were shuttered.
No taxiway lights were shining in blue
But the ARCAL lighting was ready on cue
Just for the transients passing through.
One in particular was expected that night
At the small aerodrome that awaited his flight.
For up in Class A above the overcast grey,
The IFR traffic was making its way.
And in Zulu time, it was yesterday.
Christmas for many was already there
But high over Canada, high in the air
The Old Man in red had abandoned his sled,
Tied it down on a star, put his reindeer to bed.
"Gotta go supersonic," the old pilot said.
"For Canada's domain is too big for a plane,
Prop driven or JATO is still too lame-
I need a lead sled, an SR-seven-two
The Blackbird's the thing that will get me through
Canada's airspace at the head of the queue."
He hopped in the cockpit with toy bag in tow,
"C'mon, old bird, we've got to go."
With eyes on the radar, ATC said goodbye,
And cleared Santa Clause to a flight level high
So the old jet jockey was alone in the sky.
Northbound he went, afterburners alight
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"
Selected verses reproduced here as written by Eleanor Eastick in COPA FLIGHT magazine, December, 2016.
On Christmas Eve the weather was damp,
Beechcraft and Cessna tied down on the ramp
Along with a Luscombe and a battered old Champ
With gust locks in place, no aileron fluttered.
The tower was closed, the windows were shuttered.
No taxiway lights were shining in blue
But the ARCAL lighting was ready on cue
Just for the transients passing through.
One in particular was expected that night
At the small aerodrome that awaited his flight.
For up in Class A above the overcast grey,
The IFR traffic was making its way.
And in Zulu time, it was yesterday.
Christmas for many was already there
But high over Canada, high in the air
The Old Man in red had abandoned his sled,
Tied it down on a star, put his reindeer to bed.
"Gotta go supersonic," the old pilot said.
"For Canada's domain is too big for a plane,
Prop driven or JATO is still too lame-
I need a lead sled, an SR-seven-two
The Blackbird's the thing that will get me through
Canada's airspace at the head of the queue."
He hopped in the cockpit with toy bag in tow,
"C'mon, old bird, we've got to go."
With eyes on the radar, ATC said goodbye,
And cleared Santa Clause to a flight level high
So the old jet jockey was alone in the sky.
Northbound he went, afterburners alight
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"