Well, you know it wasn't easy, in an airplane named "Frenisi",
In the South Pacific Theater of War;
But the Japs hit hard at 'Pearl', so we flew our little 'girl',
A way down south to even up the score.
You see 'Rosie' and her girls, with their hair put up in curls,
Were workin' hard to build this -24,
And with four new Pratt and Whitneys, towed out by a little jitney,
This big "Boxcar" was headed off to war.
'Twas in in the Spring of '43, in San Diego by the sea,
She was born to go and fight for you and me;
She was big and brave and surly, not a feminine 'old girly',
The pride of the Consolidated factory!
Major Billings was her Pilot, Banard the Navigator,
Lt. Nelson was the Bombadier, you see;
Eickemeyer kept her engines runnin' when not Top Turret gunnin',
Where he sent the hapless Zero's to the sea!
Now across the vast Pacific, to a base that was specific,
She arrived at the "Canal" as good as new;
And how she's shake and rattle, as she entered into battle,
On those death defying missions o'er the blue.
She had stopped in Honolulu, and passed those many tests,
'Twas here that she first met her crew;
And in her bulbous breasts, they installed machine gun nests,
That would save her from the Zero's where she flew.
Sgt. Greene became her 'father', and without a lot of bother
Put a sexy Spanish Lady on her nose;
Who wore a big sombrero, boots, serape: Caramba caballero!,
She hadn't on a stitch of underclothes!
Now after mission 48, she was quite a battered crate,
And the Colonel said her fightin' days were thru;
And they said she was a clunker, and were startin' out to junk her,
But Lt. Moeller could not bear to say "adieu".
He promised if they'd fix her, "some new engines and a stick, sir,
Why, they'd fly her for another fifty four",
And with four new motors turnin', soon the avgas she was burnin',
And now was headed westward back to war!
Now on Mission 92, she really scared her crew,
When her second engine quit on the way back;
But a Lt. named Adair, somehow kept her in the air,
And it seemed she'd seen the last of the ack-ack.
But her gallant, proud ground crew, gave her engines that were new,
And she flew the hundreth mission she desired,
But she was now a hero, and they couldn't chance a Zero,
Might down her before she could be retired.
So the brass made a decision, after her 100th mission,
And decided she would come home from the war;
And you know the Japs were wishin', after her 100th mission,
That she'd never left that sunny 'Frisco shore!
She would be a War Bond seller, and not a Nippon killer,
As she bade 'adios' to all her friends and mates;
She must say goodbye to battle, and with a little tear and rattle,
This mighty warrior headed for the States.
But this cunning little xiven had ideas her own a fixin',
As she folded up her gear on Zealand's shore;
At a straw she was a gropin', and you know that she was hopin',
That they'd fix her up and send her back to war!
But she'd flown in her last skies, as we witnessed the demise
Of this gallant, fearless, fightin' -24,
And before the age of two, with a lifetime in the blue,
She gave up and died on D-Day, '44.
But she'll always be a hero, for fightin' with the Zero,
And not one man she gave them in the fray;
And where ever men are free, from sea to shining sea,
We'll raise a glass, for in our hearts she'll stay.
Back to Poetry Index