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HOBNOBBING WITH THE FIRMAMENT


WHEN I was just a barefoot tike
I used to wonder what 'twas like
Up there—oh way, way up—as high
As all those screaming gulls could fly—
So white against the blue;
And where at evening too
The whippoorwills croaked, darted, swirled,
So far above my boyhood world.

Why, every youngster with two eyes
Has had his dreams about the skies—
My dreams have never quit
Although I'm getting on a bit,
So one day when it came, this chance,
I took it—over there in France.
Upholstered in
A furry skin—
I think 'twas sheep, the coat,
Or maybe cow or goat
And buckled snug around the throat,
With helmet, goggles—all the frills,
A bird-man to the very quills;

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