More RFC mess songs

[TomVrille]

There was quite a nice thread in this forum last year concerning songs one might hear at an RFC mess. I recently learned that some of the squadrons went so far as to print up squadron songbooks, presumably to assure that the steady stream of replacements was suitably indoctrinated in proper mess etiquette. One of these little books was from 54 Squadron, and was entitled simply Cinquante Quatre (54). I had not before seen a reference to this book, and have no idea if any copies still exist, but I have found one of the entries, to be rendered to the tune of John Peel:

We Haven't Got A Hope in the Morning

When you soar into the air on a Sopwith Scout,
And you're scrapping with a Hun and your gun cuts out,
Well, you stuff down your nose till your plugs fall out,
'Cos you haven't got a hope in the morning.

Chorus__
For a batman woke me from my bed;
I'd had a thick night and a very sore head,
And I said to myself, to myself I said,
"Oh, we haven't got a hope in the morning !"

So I went to the sheds and examined my gun,
Then, my engine I tried to run;
And the revs that it gave were a thousand and one,
'Cos it hadn't got a hope in the morning.
Chorus__

We were escorting Twenty-two,
Hadn't a notion what to do,
So we shot down a Hun and an F.E. too,
'Cos they hadn't got a hope in the morning.
Chorus__

We went to Cambrai, all in vain,
The F.E.'s said, "we must explain;
Our cameras broke--we must do it again;
Oh, we haven't got a hope in the morning!"
Chorus__

I would love to hear a recording of the piece.. Do you know if any exist, Alter Bär?

"Prost!"

[TomVrille]

I recently came across this little piece, and thought it might be of interest to other forumites. It is a verse from a song dedicated to the Poor Bloody Observers, PBO's, particularly those serving in squadrons equipped with the F2B Bristol Fighter. The text appeared in Bristol F2B Fighter - King of Two-Seaters by Chaz Bowyer.

By the late summer of 1917, F2B pilots had embraced the tactic of flying the 'Biff' like a single-seat fighter, with the added advantage of a PBO to watch their back during an engagement. This allowed the pilots to maneuver violently and quickly, and produced some truly hair-raising rides for the PBO. In some instances, the observer/gunner was even ejected from the aircraft, sans parachute, of course. The only recourse for the PBOs was to offer this plaintive lament in the mess, set to the tune of 'A Bachelor Gay' from the musical comedy Maid of the Mountains.

We all of us know the case
When the pilot comes home alone
No doubt it was only a slight mistake
But his attitude's clearly shown
He shoved his joystick suddenly down
As far as it would go;
"Hello, you seem to have gone", he said
"I fear you must be somewhat dead",
"But you're only a PBO, yes, you're only a PBO".

[Gregvan]

It's probably been posted before, but it's always worth it again. From A G Lee's "No Parachute", sung to the tune of 'Sister Susie's Sewing Shirts for Soldiers':

Heavy Handed Hans Flies Halberstadters
In handy Halberstadters for a flight our Hans does Start.
His Oberst says, "Oh, dash it!"
"For I fear that he will crash it."
See how Heavy Handed Hans ham-handles handy Halberstadts.

As Lee says,it was a 'but difficult when you're full of drink'.

Greg

[Gregvan]

Not exactly a mess song, but also from "No Parachute". During a squadron binge "Chips" Marchant did a 'marvelous impersonation of a parson chanting the 23rd Psalm, with Dimmock striking appropriate chords on the piano". :

The B.E.2c is my bus; therefore shall I want.

He maketh me to come down in green pastures.

He leadeth me where I wish not to go.

He maketh me to be sick; he leadeth me astray on cross-country flights.

Yea, though I fly o'er No-Man's Land where mine enemies would compass me about, I fear much evil; for thou art with me; thy joystick and thy prop discomfort me.

Thou preparest a crash for me in the presence of mine enemies; thy R.A.F. anointeth my hair with oil, thy tank leaketh badly.

Surely to goodness thou shalt not follow me all the days of my life, else I shall dwell in the house of Colney Hatch for ever.

[Gregvan]

Hi,

Oops, I see I already had posted "Heavy Handed Hans" in the previous thread Tomvrille mentioned. Here's another, sung to the tune of "Hush-a-Bye, Baby":

Hans vos my name, und a pilot vos I.
Out mit von Karl I vent for to fly.
Pilots of Kultur, ve vos, dere's no doubt.
Each of us flew in an Albatros Scout.
Ve looked for B.E.s for to strafe mit our guns.
Ven last I saw Karl, I knew he was dones.
For right on his tail vere two little Sops.
Oh hush-a-bye baby, on the treetops!

[Gregvan]

From"Letters from a Flying Officer", by Rothesay Stuart Wortley:

The Orderly bloke was asleep in bed,
He woke up with an awful head,
The telephone began to ring.
More hot air from the 14th Wing!
So early in the morning,
So early in the morning,
So early in the morning,
Before the break of day.

The Orderly Officer said,'Who's that?'
The Wing replied: "There's a Halberstadt
Over Albert, they say,
Go and drive the blighter away.'
Chorus_

So 6 unfortunate sleepy heads,
Known as pilots left their beds.
They hadn't been gone 5 minutes, I'm sure,
When the 14th Wing rang up once more:
'It isn't a Hun: the patrol must stop,
It's only an old two-seater Sop.'
Chorus_

Then the mists began to rise
Until they filled the wintry skies.
The patrol it should have been back by nine;
At 11 o'clock there was no sign.
Chorus_

Then old John Russel began to swear,
'Chaps,' he said, "Oh dear, oh dear!
What has happened, I'd like to know,'
When a message came through from our C.O.
Chorus_

'Archie's down by Albert way,
Tommy's crashed in a field they say,
As for the others, you can guess their plight,
It looks as though you've lost your Flight.'
Chorus_

And now my story's nearly done,
And as you see, there was no Hun.
The moral of it's perfectly clear,
We must have very much less Hot Air.
Chorus_