A Flight of Fancy

 

Imagine to be an aviator

To leave terra-firma and fly

To unlock the shackles of gravity

Be weightless, and reach for the sky

John and Macko were only thirteen

So how could they dream such a thing?

Two working-class lads, from Grimstone Low

With ambitions to take to the wing

They were both academically average

And failing at school, it would seem

And flying’s the shtick of the gifted

But even the lowly can dream

  

Mr Jinx was head of technical studies

Who ridiculed t’lads…… just for fun

Always at hand with a put-down

Insults just rolled off his tongue

“You’re just a pair of idiots”  

“A disgrace to yourselves, and the school”

“You’ll never amount to anything”

“You ne’er-do-well, dunderhead fools”

Now comments like that can be hurtful

A blow to the lads’ self-esteem

And flying’s the shtick of the clever

But even the lowly can dream

 

Two working class lads, from Grimstone Low

With no right, to ambitions of flying

Set out to build a hang-glider

You have to give credit for trying

On a zero budget, and no help from their dads

They beavered away day and night

With scaffolding poles, and half-inched tarpaulins

To make the magnificent kite

A gigantic construction which weighed half a ton

With a seat hanging down from the beam

Cos flying’s the shtick of the busy

So even the lowly can dream

 

Two working class lads, from Grimstone Low

Unperturbed by their lowly-bred roots

Had built a magnificent flying machine

Cos they cared-not for tranquil pursuits

They’d used what they could cadge or nick

Which was heavy, but they were not daft

They compensated, by doubling up

When they worked out the size of their craft

Fifty foot from tip-to-tip

Which may seem a little extreme

And flying’s the shtick of the wealthy

But even the lowly can dream

 

There’s a slag heap in Grimstone Low

A good place to launch such a craft

Cos the breeze came off Dead Donkey Meadow

And created a gentle updraught

There was one silver birch on the north east side

Which concerned the lads… Not one bit

Cos they knew that they would be flying

And airborne before reaching it

They were hopeful of catching a thermal

And riding upon its airstream

Cos flying’s the shtick of the daring

So even the lowly can dream

 

They were poised at the top of the slagheap

Two lads from Grimstone Low

As the airstream filled up their sail

Now they were ready to go

Within two short steps they were airborne

Bravery, death defying

The elation they felt, as their feet left the ground

Floating, gliding, flying

Friendships never need testing

They made a formidable team

And flying’s the shtick of the hearty

So even the lowly can dream

 

Mr Jinx, you can eat your own words

“Just a pair of idiots” Eh

“Never amount to anything”

“A disgrace to the school” did you say

So, who’s the dunderhead now?

Did you ever fly?  Mr Jinx

Just tell me of your great achievements

They won’t include flying methinks

The lads had entered the smug-zone

And were feeling a little supreme

Cos flying’s the shtick of anyone

So even the lowly can dream

 

The exhilaration of flying

The fledglings had hopped the perch

The feeling of having the wind in their hair

BANG…. The silver birch

They had only flown twenty yards

If you could call that flying

Their feet were just six inches clear of the ground

Still, got to give credit for trying

They hit the tree with a smash

And ended up wrapped round its beam

Cos flying’s the shtick of anyone.

Anyone except for two working class lads from Grimstone Low

But even the lowly can dream