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The Flying Colonel We were on our way from Rangoonie to Shannon And the flak was burstin' high; And the P-51's and the P-47's Were wingin' their way through the sky. We were halfway between Rangoonie and Berlin Wingin' our way through the blue, When the Jerries spotted us from five o'clock under And came up to see what they could do. Now the first pass was made on the 497, Colonel S___s was up ahead, And he pissed and he moaned, and he shit and he groaned For he thought he would surely be dead. The colonel called to his brave navigator "Give me a heading home." But the brave navigator, with his hand on the ripcord, Said, "Shit, boy, you're going home alone." So the colonel he called to his brave bombardier Said,"Give me a heading home," But the brave bombardier had already scuttled, There was silence on the colonel' interphone. Well, at 24,000 he chewed on his candy And his balls drew up in their sack; And he pissed and he moaned, and he shit and he groaned For he thought he would never get back. But with four engines feathered he glided into safety On the runway of his own home base; And it's with great pride that he tells this story With a shit-eating grin on his face. From The Erotic Muse, Cray RG apr96
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!