And that's a roll and twist around, and that's the sky and there's the ground,
And I and the aeroplane
Are doing a glide, but upside down, and that's a village and that's a town—
And now we're rolling back.
And this is the way we climb and stall and sit up and beg on nothing at all,
The wires and strainers slack.
And now we'll try and be good some more, and open the throttle and hear her roar
For there never a pilot yet was born who flew a machine on a frosty morn
But started stunting soon,