Flying West
By: Captain Michael Larkin, TWA Retired

I hope there’s a place way up in the sky,

where pilots can go, when they have to die.

A place where a guy could buy a cold beer

for a friend or comrade, whose memory is dear.

A place no doctor or lawyer could tread,

nor a management type would ‘ere be caught dead!

Just a quaint little place: kind of dark, full of smoke,

where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke.

The kind of place a lady could go

and feel safe and protected by the men she would know.

 

There must be a place where old pilots go

when their wings get too weary, and their airspeed gets low.

Where the whiskey is old and the women are young,

and songs about flying and dying are sung.

Where you'd see all the fellows who’d flown west before,

and they'd would call out your name, as you came thru the door,

who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad

and relate to others, "He was quite a good lad!"

 

And then through the mist you’d spot an old guy

you had not seen in years, though he'd taught you to fly.

He’d nod his old head, and grin ear to ear,

and say, "Welcome home son, I’m pleased that you’re here"!

For this is the place where true flyers come

when the battles are over and the wars have been won.

They've come here at last to be safe and afar

from Government Clerk and the Management Czar,

Politicians and Lawyers, the Feds and the noise,

where all hours are happy, and these good old boys

can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest!

This is heaven, my son.....you’ve passed your last test!"

Special Note: written in 1991 upon the passing of TWA Captain Edward R. "Buddy" Boland, and first published by Airline Pilot magazine in February 1995 to commemorate the passing of Captain Hamilton "Ham" Lee, ALPA founding member and #1 on the UAL seniority list.