The following drinking song from World War I is based on the old Australian Folk Song The Dying Stockman.
A young aviator lay dying,
At the end of a bright summer's day [chorus of Erks*] ... Summer's day!
His comrades had gathered around him,
To carry his fragments away.
The crate was piled up on his wishbone.
His Lewis was wrapped 'round his head. ... His head!
He wore a spark plug in each elbow,
'Twas plain he would shortly be dead.
He spat out a valve and a gasket,
As he stirred in the sump where he lay ... Where he lay!
And then to his wondering comrades,
These brave parting words did he say:
Take the manifold out of my larynx,
And the butterfly-valve from my neck ... From his neck!
Remove from my kidneys the camrods,
There's a lot of good parts in this wreck.
Take the piston ring out of my stomach,
And the cylinders out of my brain. ... His brain!
Extract from my liver the crankshaft,
And assemble the engine again!
Pull the longeron out of my backbone,
The turnbuckle out of my ear ... His ear!
From the small of my back take the rudder.
There's all of your aeroplane here.
I'll be riding a cloud in the morning,
No engine before me to cuss. ... To cuss!
Shake the lead from your feet and get busy,
There's another lad needing this bus!
At the end of a bright summer's day [chorus of Erks*] ... Summer's day!
His comrades had gathered around him,
To carry his fragments away.
The crate was piled up on his wishbone.
His Lewis was wrapped 'round his head. ... His head!
He wore a spark plug in each elbow,
'Twas plain he would shortly be dead.
He spat out a valve and a gasket,
As he stirred in the sump where he lay ... Where he lay!
And then to his wondering comrades,
These brave parting words did he say:
Take the manifold out of my larynx,
And the butterfly-valve from my neck ... From his neck!
Remove from my kidneys the camrods,
There's a lot of good parts in this wreck.
Take the piston ring out of my stomach,
And the cylinders out of my brain. ... His brain!
Extract from my liver the crankshaft,
And assemble the engine again!
Pull the longeron out of my backbone,
The turnbuckle out of my ear ... His ear!
From the small of my back take the rudder.
There's all of your aeroplane here.
I'll be riding a cloud in the morning,
No engine before me to cuss. ... To cuss!
Shake the lead from your feet and get busy,
There's another lad needing this bus!
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