The Gullwing is my aircraft,
I shall not rest;
It flyeth me above the tundra
And leadeth me amongst mightly mountains;
It maketh me lie down after each flight
To recover my strength
It scareth my soul.

Verily, thou taxieth like a lumber wagon,
Thou lovest the ground
And no airstrip is too long.
Thine airspeed riseth but slowly;
The end of the runway approacheth rapidly.

Yea, though I near the valley of the
Shadow of death,
Thou art airborne! My sweat runneth over
But the manifold pressure and tach needle
They comfort me. I shall fear no evil!

Thou flyeth for hours and my bladder overfloweth,
For I dare not land short.

Alas! Thou preparest an emergency before me
In the presence of mine passengers;
Thy prop seals giveth out
And I getteth a mere 1400 rpm from thee.
Thine oil pressure droppeth
And again ,my sweat runneth over.
I calleth on the radio and recieveth no sympathy;
Smoke filleth thy cockpit and I cannot see-

Thy smelleth overpowereth.
Surely goodness and mercy hath deserted me forever.

I fighteth to maintain altitude.
I turneth thee back to Fairbanks;
At least thy rods and mains, they comfort;
Thou never stoppeth completely.
But I forgetteth thy gas tanks and lo!
Thou hast stopped completely!

My hand flyeth to my left knee to switch tanks,
Alas, thou are no Pacer!
Ah, Thy switch before my eyes-
More gallons for thy gulping cylinders,

Thy flaps commeth down, thy airspeed droppeth
Anyway thy landing seemeth normal!
I taxieth thee and the pushers pusheth thee;
I leaneth out and thy engine stoppeth.

Amen

by
Ray Tremblay author “On Patrol”

Sounds like a great weekend, and you should stick with that mission!