not a star was there in sight.
All the mustangs were tied
stood with mud up to his ear,
he'd or ders to fly old number nine.
Well, his back was racked with pain
as he climbed into the plane
A lonely tear was forming in his eye
And he offered up a prayer
as he climbed into the air
He knew this would be his
As he flew o 'er Haggaroo,
he let loose a bomber too,
and he figured that he ought to call it quits.
that he'd fly so doggone low,
that the bomb blast would
In the wreckage he was found,
thinly spread around the ground,
the crunchies they raised his weary head.
With his lifetime almost spent,
here's the message that he sent
I used an 8 -2 -10 delay,
but it didn't work that way
Without a tail, a Mustang doesn't fly
He can roll up the ladder,
