"We loop in the purple twilight
We spin in the silvery dawn
With a trail of smoke behind us
To show where our comrades have gone"
- author unknown, from the Air Force traditional song "Stand To Your Glasses"

Throw a Nickel On the Grass

Author unknown, Air Force traditional

CHORUS:
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!
Throw a nickel on the grass save a fighter pilot's ass
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!
Throw a nickel on the grass and you'll be safe!

Well, I'm cruising down the Yalu, doing six-and-twenty per
I cried to my flight leader, "Oh, won't you save me, Sir!
Got two big flak holes in my wings, my engine's outta gas!
Mayday!  Mayday!  Mayday!  Got six MiGs on my ass!"

CHORUS

Well, I shot my traffic pattern, to me it looked alright
The airspeed read one-niney, I really racked it tight
The airframe gave a shudder, the engine gave a wheeze
Mayday!  Mayday!  Mayday!  Spin instructions please!

CHORUS

The crosswind blew me sideways, the left wing hit the ground
I firewalled the throttle, and I tried to go around
I yanked that Sabre in the air, a dozen feet or more
The engine quit, I almost shit, the gear came through the floor

CHORUS

Itazuke Tower

Author unknown, Air Force traditional
to the tune of "Wabash Cannonball"

Listen to the rumble, hear old Merlin roar
I'm flying over Moji like I never flew before
Hear the mighty rush of the slipstream; hear old Merlin moan
I'll wait a bit and say a prayer and hope it gets me home

Itazuke Tower, this is Air Force 801
I'm turning on the downwind leg, my prop is overrun
My coolant's overheated, the guage says one-two-one
You better get the crash crew out and get 'em on the run

Air Force 801, this is Itazuke Tower
I cannot call the crash crew out, this is their coffee hour
You're not cleared in the pattern, now that is plain to see
So take it on around again; you ain't no VIP

Itazuke Tower, this is Air Force 801
I'm turning on the base leg; I see your biscuit gun
My engine's running rougher; the coolant's gonna blow
I'm gonna by a Mustang, so look out down below

Now listen, Air Force 801, this is Itazuke Tower
We'd like to let you in right now but we ain't got the power
We'll send a note through channels and wait for a reply
'Til we get permission back, just chase around the sky

Itazuke Tower, this is Air Force 801
I'm turning base-to-final, I'm running on one lung
I'm gonna land this Mustang, no matter what you say
I'm gonna get my chart squared up before the Judgment Day

Now listen, Air Force 801, this is Itazuke Tower
We're trying hard to help you, just give us one more hour
Patience is a virtue, as fighter pilots know
So be a good guy; listen up, we'll tell you where to go

Itazuke Tower, this is Air Force 801
I'm calling from the Great Beyond, my flying days are done
I'm sorry I exploded, I didn't make the grade
I guess I should have waited 'til the landing was okayed

Hello, Air Force 801, this here is Judgement Day
You're up in pilot's Heaven, and you are here to stay
You just bought a Mustang; you really bought it well
and Itazuke Tower, we sent 'em straight to Hell!

Korean Waterfall

Author unknown, Air Force traditional

Beside a Korean waterfall on a cold and cloudy day
Beside his busted Sabre jet the young pursuiter lay
His parachute hung from a nearby tree, he was not yet quite dead
Listen to the very last words the young pursuiter said

"I'm going to a better land where everything's all right
Where whiskey flows from telegraph poles, play poker every night
There's not a single thing to do, but sit around and sing
And all the crews are women; oh death, where is thy sting?

"Death where is thy sting, ting-a-ling
Oh, death, where is thy sting?
The bells of Hell will ring, ting-a-ling
For you!  But, not for me!

"So-o-o, ring-a-ling-a-ling-ting; blow it out your ass
Ring-a-ling-a-ling-ting; blow it out your ass
Ring-a-ling-a-ling-ting; blow it out your ass
Better days are coming, bye-and-bye!"

Air Corps Lament

Author unknown, Air Force traditional
to the tune of "Battle Hymn of the Republic"

Mine eyes have seen the days of men
Who ruled the fighting sky
With hearts that laughed at death
And lived for nothing but to fly
But now those hearts are grounded
And those days are long gone by
The Air Force is gone to hell

CHORUS:
Glory, flying regulations
Have them read at every station
Crucify the man who breaks one
The Air Force is shot to hell

My bones have felt their pounding throb
A hundred thousand strong
A mighty airbourne legion
Sent to right the deadly wrong
But now it's only memory
It only lives in song
The Air Force is gone to hell

The lordly Flying Fortress
And the Liberator, too
Once wrote the doom of Germany
With contrails in the blue
But now the skies are empty
And our planes are wet with dew
And we can't fly for hell

Hap Arnold built a fighting team
That sang the fighting song
About the wild blue yonder
In the days when men were strong
But now, we're closely supervised
For fear we may do wrong
The Air Force is gone to hell

CHORUS

I have seen them in their T-bolts
When their eyes were dancing flame
I've seen their screaming power dives
That blasted Goering's name
But now they fly like sissies
And they hang their heads in shame
Their spirits shot to hell

They flew B-26's
Through a living hell of flak
And bloody, dying pilots
Gave their lives to bring them back
But now they all play ping-pong
In the operations shack
Their technique's gone to hell

You heard your pounding fifties
Blaze from wings of polished steel
The purring of your Merlin
Was a song your heart could feel
But now, the L-5 charms you
With its moaning, groaning squeal
And it won't climb for hell

CHORUS

Have you ever climbed a Lightning
Up to where the air is thin
Have you aimed her long nose downward
Just to hear the screaming din
Have you tried to do it lately?
Better not; you'll auger in
And then you'll sure catch hell!

We were cocky, bold and happy
When we played the angels' game
We split the blue with buzzing
And we rolled our way to fame
But now that's all verboten
And we're all so gol-durn tame
Our spirits shot to hell

One day I buzzed an airfield
With another reckless chap
We flew a hot formation
With his wingtip in my lap
But there's a new directive
And we'll have no more of that
Or you will burn in Hell!

CHORUS

Mine eyes get dim with tears
When I recall the days of old
When pilots took their choice
Of being old, or young and bold
Alas, I have no choice
And I will live to be quite old
The Air Force is gone to hell

But smile awhile, my pilots
Though your eyes may still be wet
Someday we'll meet in heaven
Where the rules have not been set
And God will show us how to buzz
And roll and really let
The Air Force fly like hell!

CHORUS:
Glory, no more regulations
Rip them down at every station
Ground the guy who tries to make one
And let us fly like hell!

DaNang Lullabye

Author unknown, Air Force traditional
to the tune of "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean"

CHORUS:
Roll in, roll in; my God how the mortars roll in, roll in
Roll in, roll in; my God how the mortars roll in

I went over to Southeast Asia
To fight my own war in the air
I've spent half my tour in a bunker
I don't think that it's really fair

CHORUS

Each morning we blast off to battle
At dawn in the clouds, fog, and rain
The Gyrenes are up even sooner
To recapture the ramp at DaNang

CHORUS

Each day I go off to fly combat
And then to the club for a beer
I usually finish the first one
And then Charlie's mortars I hear

CHORUS

My one hundred missions are over
I'll resume the life that I led
My wife thinks that it's rather silly
To stack up sandbags 'round our bed

CHORUS

Strafing 'Round the Mountain

Author unknown, Air Force traditional
to the tune of "She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain"

Now listen all you airmen, young and old
to the tales of fighter pilots, young and bold
with their fighters painted yellow
leaping off to contact Mellow
in the crisp Korean air so blue and cold

It was dive bong old Sinanju, stop the Reds
eight 1000-pounders loaded, instant heads
four birds lined up on the runway
wish I'd gone to church on Sunday
hope we catch those lousy Commies in their beds

Twenty-thousand over Pyongyang, on northwest
Gas Mask Flight about to face the acid test
'til at last the Yalu River
which makes my liver quiver
with flak guns lined up twenty-four abreast

Dust clouds roll up from Antung cross the way
twenty swept-wing Chinese warbirds out to play
thirty-sevens, twenty-threes
all lit up like Christmas trees
salvo off the tip tanks; leap into the fray

Kimpo Tower clears the pattern with great haste
twenty victory rolls our pilots do with grace
it was thrilling, it was hairy
near that privileged sanctuary
Syngman Rhee will soon be boss of this whole place

Kimpo Tower, this is Gas Mask Willie Four
I am heading home, I'm through with this damn war
I am flying on to K-2
Heading one-five-oh for Taegu
'cause they're sending back to Moscow for some more

I Wanted Wings

Author unknown, Air Force traditional

I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore
They taught me how to fly, then they sent me off to die
I've had a belly full of war
   You can save those goddam Zeros
   For those other goddam heroes
   Distinguished Flying Crosses
   Do not compensate for losses, Buster
I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore

I'll take the dames while the rest go down in flames
I got no desire to be burned
Air combat spells romance but it makes me wet my pants
I'm not a fighter I have learned
   You can save those Mitsubishis
   For those other sons-of-bitches
   'Cause I'd rather lay a woman
   Than be shot down in a Grumman, Buster
I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore

I don't care to tour over Berlin or the Ruhr
Flak always makes me lose my lunch
I get the urge to pray when they holler, "Bombs away!"
I'd rather be home with the bunch
   For there's one thing you can't laugh off
   And that's when they shoot your ass off
   I'd rather be home, Buster
   With my ass than with a cluster, Buster
I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore

Now, I'm too young to die in a damned old PBY
That's for the eager, not for me
I don't trust my luck to be picked up by a duck
After I've crashed into the sea
   For I'd rather be a bellhop
   Than a flyer on a flattop
   With my hands around a bottle
   Not a goddamned throttle, Buster
I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore

They feed us lousy chow, but we stay alive somehow
On dehydrated eggs and milk and stew
The rumor has it next they'll be dehydrating sex
That's the day I tell the coach I'm through
   I've managed all the dangers
   The shooting back at strangers
   But when I get home late
   I want my woman straight, Buster
I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore

The day that we bombed Metz I ran out of cigarettes
I always smoke one just for luck
They make them by the ton, but I haven't got a one
Oh, what I'd give to have a butt
   The home front may be pitching
   But I'll still do my bitching
   'Til I find a real sharp cookie
   Who can mass produce some nookie, Buster
I wanted wings 'til I got the goddam things
Now I don't want them anymore

• Dispatch to Military Aviation Songs - Vol. 2

• Back to Cloudbuster's Home Page

*******