by Peter L Collins
I’m a flier in a club,
and we all want safety, but here’s the rub,
those people out there who make the rules,
(some of my friends say they must be fools),
have told us what frequencies we must use,
(which some of my friends do quite refuse),
when we tell them where we are, to avoid a collision,
(which some of my friends also view with derision).
It’s known when you’re flying down low in the mountains,
radio waves don’t rise up like fountains.
Little planes that fly along,
some of them flimsy, others strong,
some of them high and others low,
some of some of them fast and other ones slow,
calling on radio into the void,
so each other they can hope to avoid.
But they can’t hear each other, for the rules are just mad,
and the channels are muddled, it’s really quite sad,
It’s a Tower of Babel, that’s what it is,
and the CAA god is in quite a tizz,
because of the wee planes that fall from the sky,
bringing to families more tears to the eye,
whenever two wee planes don’t know of the others,
and crash and the remains get brought home to mothers.
The frequencies chosen have to make sense,
even to pilots like me, who are dense.
One region one frequency, it’s not that damn hard,
even I get it, and I’m a retard.
So please call on parliament to do what it could
or more so what it really should
and get your rank and file involved
so the problem might get solved.
It’s easy to fix – or that’s what I’m told,
But I fear they won’t do it until I’m too old
to take my wee plane high up in the sky
for it’s in my warm bed that I’m hoping to die.
Lord, give me a frequency for my next call,
that will guarantee it goes out to all
who are flying around me, down low in the sky,
for I want them to hear me so none of us die.
var _gaq = _gaq || ; _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-39589674-1']); _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);