Hi Gang
        Thought you might like this, hope you haven't seen it before.
Jack G.

>FLYING WEST
>
>I hope there's a place, way up in the sky,
>Where pilots can go, when they have to die.
>A place where a guy can buy a cold beer
>For a friend and a comrade, whose memory is dear;
>
>A place where no mettlesome lawyer can tread ,
>Nor a government type would ere be caught dead;
>Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
>Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke;
>The kind of a place where a lady could go
>And feel safe and protected, by the men she would know.
>
>There must be a place where old pilots go,
>When their paining is finished, and their airspeed gets low,
>Where the whiskey is old, and the wine not too young,
>And songs about flying and dying are sung,
>Where you'd see all the fellows who'd flown west before,
>And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door.
>Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
>And relate to the others, "He was quite a good lad!"
>
>And then through the mist, you'd spot an old guy
>You had not seen in years, though he taught you to fly.
>He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear;
>And say,  "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased that you're here."
>"For this is the place where true flyers come,"
>"When their journey is over, and the war has been won."
>"They've come here at last to be safe and alone"
>"From the government clerks and the bureaucrat clone,"
>"Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise,"
>"Where all hours are happy, and these good ole boys"
>"Can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest;"
>"This is heaven, my son......You've passed your last test!"
>
>
>James Beam
>

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