My Stupid Poem
07-30-2003, 05:09 PM
#1
My Stupid Poem
Twas the Night Before the Fun Fly
Twas the night before the fun fly when all through the shop,
airplanes were ready, including spare props.
The chargers were plugged into the outlets with care,
in hope that fair weather soon would be there.
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of trophies danced in their heads.
Mamma in her night gown, and I in my cap,
had just settled down for a long summer's nap.
When over on the night stand there rose such a clatter,
that I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the alarm clock I flew like a flash,
so as not to wake the wife and have my head bashed.
The sun had not risen and the stars were bright in the sky,
If only the wind would die down, what a great day to fly.
When what O my wondering eyes should appear,
but an empty fuel can and the fun fly is here!
With a little old phone call so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment my friends could do the trick.
More rapid than eagles my friends they did come,
bringing lots of fuel in a 55 gallon drum.
They whistled and shouted as they poured it in a jug,
On Nitro!, On Castor! , don't forget the glow plugs.
So out to the car my friends they all flew,
with an arm full of airplanes and my transmitters too.
And then in a twinkling I heard from a friend,
the good news of weather with out any wind.
The drive was long and I was weary,
but when I arrived at the contest my outlook was cheery.
As I stepped from my car and was turning around
the CD came over and shown not a frown.
Ten dollars of mine was all that he took,
he gave me some forms and a rule book.
His eyes how blood shot and beard needed shaving,
as tired as he looked he probably needed bathing.
A pencil he held tight in his teeth,
as some jerk said "what a lousy meet".
He had a tired face and a broad belly,
that shook like a four stroke with a prop to heavy.
He was old and experienced a right friendly old CD,
and I laughed at the guy thinking "this could be me".
He spoke not a word but went quickly to work,
filling out AMA forms and scoring sheets with a smirk.
At the start of the meet,
a pilot's briefing he did,
with warnings of the zero line,
and cheating he did bid.
He sprang to the flight line and with a big yell,
said good luck to everyone, give 'em hell.
The first contestant was up in a flash,
a loop a roll and then a neat crash.
When my turn came it didn't matter,
as long as I finished without a splatter.
After the contest when all flying was done,
we all waited anxiously to see who had won.
One after one they called out the names,
It sounds just like last year, the winners the same.
Then I realized its not who won,
its not how you finished, but did you have fun?
Tim Batt
If you would like a Word document version of this, just send me an email.
Twas the night before the fun fly when all through the shop,
airplanes were ready, including spare props.
The chargers were plugged into the outlets with care,
in hope that fair weather soon would be there.
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of trophies danced in their heads.
Mamma in her night gown, and I in my cap,
had just settled down for a long summer's nap.
When over on the night stand there rose such a clatter,
that I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the alarm clock I flew like a flash,
so as not to wake the wife and have my head bashed.
The sun had not risen and the stars were bright in the sky,
If only the wind would die down, what a great day to fly.
When what O my wondering eyes should appear,
but an empty fuel can and the fun fly is here!
With a little old phone call so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment my friends could do the trick.
More rapid than eagles my friends they did come,
bringing lots of fuel in a 55 gallon drum.
They whistled and shouted as they poured it in a jug,
On Nitro!, On Castor! , don't forget the glow plugs.
So out to the car my friends they all flew,
with an arm full of airplanes and my transmitters too.
And then in a twinkling I heard from a friend,
the good news of weather with out any wind.
The drive was long and I was weary,
but when I arrived at the contest my outlook was cheery.
As I stepped from my car and was turning around
the CD came over and shown not a frown.
Ten dollars of mine was all that he took,
he gave me some forms and a rule book.
His eyes how blood shot and beard needed shaving,
as tired as he looked he probably needed bathing.
A pencil he held tight in his teeth,
as some jerk said "what a lousy meet".
He had a tired face and a broad belly,
that shook like a four stroke with a prop to heavy.
He was old and experienced a right friendly old CD,
and I laughed at the guy thinking "this could be me".
He spoke not a word but went quickly to work,
filling out AMA forms and scoring sheets with a smirk.
At the start of the meet,
a pilot's briefing he did,
with warnings of the zero line,
and cheating he did bid.
He sprang to the flight line and with a big yell,
said good luck to everyone, give 'em hell.
The first contestant was up in a flash,
a loop a roll and then a neat crash.
When my turn came it didn't matter,
as long as I finished without a splatter.
After the contest when all flying was done,
we all waited anxiously to see who had won.
One after one they called out the names,
It sounds just like last year, the winners the same.
Then I realized its not who won,
its not how you finished, but did you have fun?
Tim Batt
If you would like a Word document version of this, just send me an email.
