What I did in my school holidays in July 1968
By Lemmy Hadassin
‘Twas a cold and smokey highveld, before the winter dawn
A Cessna four-seater, parked neatly on the lawn
The pilot checks the fuel as we all climb on board
Uncertain what’s ahead, a silent prayer to the Lord
Final year at school, I’m just sweet sixteen
Flying to De Aar in the Cape, where I’ve never ever been
My Dad and Bill Moffett, a job there to review
With the pilot, Arthur Webster, and me make up the crew
“Fasten seatbelts rather tightly”, Captain Webster’s call is clear
Nothing to worry about, and not much for me to fear
The engine sounds so noisy as my heart begins to pound
Down the runway at high speed the plane lifts off the ground
We’re flying high, it’s daylight, so much never seen before
A highway here, a farm over there, a dam and so much more
A thermos flask of coffee, and egg sandwiches for us to share
Should be at home studying, but I don’t really care
Flying over mountains, we’re close to our destination
The engine stops, the propeller slows, a worrying situation
The captain tries a restart, unfortunately no such luck
Lets out a loud profanity, which may well rhyme with duck
We glide over the hilltops, and the town is not that far
Perhaps we’ll land on the road, but this is not a car
Arthur spots a sandy track, a good landing’s on today
Little does he know there’s a wall mound in the way
We hit the ground with a mighty bump, the plane does a total flip
Landing upside down and skidding on, as I bit hard on my lip
Held hanging by the seatbelt, I should have stayed in bed
Undo the buckle, and lo and behold I fall onto my head
The Captain fears a fire and kicks out the side door
We scramble along the roof which has now become the floor
We’re out, we’re safe, just a few cuts and bruises to show
The plane’s a wreck, will I fly again – the answer’s a definite no
A farmer saw our plane above, gliding slowly into trouble
Appears with shovels, thought we were buried deep in rubble
Transport to the town, by I know not whom
Should we check-in and get a room?
I offer to ride home on the evening train
A ride on rails sounds good to my brain
Arthur says no – it’s like riding a bike
after falling off, get up and go for a hike
He calls the aero club from a call-box phone
“Send out a bigger plane to take us all home”
A six-seater arrives as sunset is near
An engine up front and one in the rear
The town folk turn out at the aero strip
To watch us fly off in this strange looking ship
My palms are all sweaty, my nerves are a-jitter
I may be a coward but I’m surely no quitter
The new pilot is cool, so I am much calmer
Gets us back home without further drama
Arthur’s bought a new Cessna – is he quite insane?
Will I ever choose to fly with him again?
