Skydiving Songs & Poems

Quote

In reply to "don't know...can you mumm a few bars" in the post of the song "O Lord."

It's a parody of an old Janice Joplin song. It's called "Oh Lord Won't You Buy me a Mercedes Benz." It goes back to the early 70's I think.
MrSoundman

This may have been one of the eaziest songs to parody ever written. At least it was the most parodied. With the possible exception of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."
Well, here's my version, written in '72 or '73 by Dave Story and me on the way to Palatka.

Oh Lord, won't you buy me a colored PC
My freinds all jump one - ones
Thet're outdriving me
Worked all of my lifetime
To get in the peas
So oh Lord won't you buy me a colored PC

Oh Lord won't you buy me a custom made pig
My backbone is weary from this military rig
Can't fit in the airplane
Cause my gutter is too big
So oh Lord, won't you buy me a custom made pig

Oh Lord won't you build me a big 8 man star
I've only been base for a 4 man so far
Worked all of my lifetime
For my SCR
So oh Lord won't you build me a big 8 man star

"Heh, heh, heh. That's all folks"

Quote

Divers of the Sky
by Hank McCarrick.

Hank McCarrick jumped at and may have been a part owner of the Taunton, MA DZ in the late 60s. He was a party animal and had something of a reputation for flying drunk.
He and three other jumpers were killed when his Mooney hit an island off the Massachusetts coast late one weekend night.

HW

Quote

Don't know...
Can you hum a few bars?!


****************************************


O Lord

O Lord, won't you buy me a brand new P.D.
All my friends have one, so why not me?
And give me a slicksuit, so I can fall free,
O Lord, won't you give me a brand new P.D.

O Lord, won't you buy me a brand new big plane,
And some good weather, no wind and no rain,
I can't really jump from a car or a train.
O Lord, won't you buy me a brand new big plane,

O Lord, help me dirt-dive a forty-way cat
Then into a diamond, or something like that.
A stairstep to a snowflake, and then turn and track
O Lord, help me dirt-dive a forty-way cat.

O Lord, give me money to jump all the time
I think five a day, every day, would be fine.
I'm so broke I've turned to a new life of crime,
O Lord, give me money to jump all the time.

Oh, the memories :D (I just learned of this thread thx to MikeJD). Really great stuff - the stuff of legends. Thanks again,
Jeannie

I don't recognize the tune to this one. Anyway...

Our club onece had a spotter who was really something hot
He'd remove the students toggles and still drop them on the spot
He never took a student up who ever chickened out
He'd get them standing on the wheel and to the pillt shout

"Gear up and let hin go,
There's not a damn thing but the target down below
Gear up and let him fall.
If he don't open he's a gonner."

Willy took a new girl up
He had her on the wheel
The plane was nearing exit as she started to appeal
Willy held her out there wouldn't let her back inside
With his free hand grabbed the gear switch and then to the pilot cried

"Gear up and let her go,
There's not a damn thing but the target down below
Gear up and let her fall.
If she don't open he's a gonner."

The plane was now asending to the 30 second height
Willy he unhooked his leg strap just lookin' for a light
The leg strap went unnoticed as he climbed out on the wheel
And as he started back inside he heard the pilot squeal

"Gear up and let hin go,
There's not a damn thing but the target down below
Gear up and let him fall.
If he don't open he's a gonner."

Willy snatched to tie his legstrap but he went into a spin
Pulled and came out of his harness and he started augering in
But his eyes they kept a'searching and like always found the spot
He went into a track made a splash right on the dot.

This is awesome.
I wrote a song for my club last year, but it's in Swedish so you'll probably not get a lot out of it. Maybe I'll write one in English some day!

Bumpity bump bump...bump bump!

A short one from the Quincy Convention when they couldn't spot the C-130 worth a damn, then Roger said he would spot it from the ground. I'm pretty sure I heard Johnny Gates singing it on the way to altitude.

I've been searching for the Drop Zone
All the live long day.
I've been searching for the Drop Zone
Fifteen Miles away.

Can't you see the Mississippi
Flowing down below,
Can't you hear the jumper shouting
"Which way shall we go?"

Roger won't you blow, Roger won't you blow....

madjohn

Hee!

Skydivers cohabit a special realm where they and clouds kiss the sky enfolded upon her soft arms of wind.
Our sky is lovely and bigger than forever.
Embrace her.
XOX.

Here you go.

Sparky

Anybody recall "Malfunction Number 9" ? I took my Racer down to Elsinore, just like I did a thousand times before... etc. Anybody?

Quote

To the tune of "Beautiful Dreamer

Hey Artwardo, you forgot to append the Chorus + Refrain

Beautiful Streamer, please open for me.
Blue skies above me and no canopy

A skydivers Toast

Oh, look to the skies of clear-shot blue
and lift your glasses tall
and think of the world
like a map unfurled
beneath your screaming fall.

Oh, here's to the sky for you and I
with our silken banners pinned
for here's a crew that burns the blue
and rides on wings of wind.

(anon. from the 1940s?)

Night Jump

Oh think of the night as the plane lifts-off
her engines screaming high.

Just you, your friends, and small dim lights
in a great dark empty sky.

Fly on black air; drift on the arms of the night
and survey a city outlined in spots of light.

But time is gone
so in and pull
then shout with joy
for your soul is full

Pat Works 1962

Quote

Night Jump

Oh think of the night as the plane lifts-off
her engines screaming high.

Just you, your friends, and small dim lights
in a great dark empty sky.

Fly on black air; drift on the arms of the night
and survey a city outlined in spots of light.

But time is gone
so in and pull
then shout with joy
for your soul is full

Pat Works 1962

I like, well done Pat.

Sparky

I have talked with both Laura Sharp at Parachutist and the Blue Skies folks about a story on songs over the years but they seem to balk at "Francine McFilthy, the Skydiving Whore," and a serious sociology story, "The Cock Choir."
I might have to self-publish.

HW

Quote

I have talked with both Laura Sharp at Parachutist and the Blue Skies folks about a story on songs over the years but they seem to balk at "Francine McFilthy, the Skydiving Whore," and a serious sociology story, "The Cock Choir."
I might have to self-publish.

HW

"Francine Mc Filthy"

by Little David

To the tune of "Streets of Larado"

There was a young maiden of age fifty-seven.
Who drove a blank gore like you've never seen before.
She drank and she cussed, and she smelled to high heaven.
That's Francine Mc Filthy, the skydiver's whore.

We went to a jump meet in Carson, Nevada.
The troops were all lined up at the Moonlight Ranch door.
But out in the bushes, one went for a quarter.
That's Francine Mc Filthy, the skydiver's whore.

Old Francine the queen of barnstorming banditos.
Would punch out S.O.S. 'till her knuckles were sore.
She'd make Pope and Bishop, in seventeen seconds,
Then take on nine jumpers, that's skydivers whore.

Way back in the old barnstorming days, I flew an old jenny.
The struts were all broken, the fabric was tore.
And out on the jumpstep, stood Francine Mc Filthy.
The pride of Milpitas, that skydiver's whore.

Francine was married to old Ernie Perkins;
The wedding took place in the back of a store;
The troops was all drinkin' and fightin' and yellin',
And Ernie got cursed wid' a skydiving whore.

Old Francine looked lovely, she smiled at the preacher.
A pioneer jumpsuit, the gown that she wore.
Behind her sweet back, she gave us the finger.
That raunchy old bastard, that skydiver's whore.

The marriage was short lived, and so was old Ernie.
He crashed through a church roof, and died on the floor.
Francine missed the funeral, for a night jump at Chico.
So what's more important to a skydiving whore.

Then one day it happened, her navy rig failed her.
She tracked for Lake Merrit, but just made the shore.
She closed bloodshot eyes, and smiled through her AssHole...
And that was the end of our skydiving whore.

So hang your head low boys and cry in your muscat.
The pride of Milpitas is with us no more.
And the noise that your hear at twelve-five is not thunder.
But the voice of old Francine, our skydiving whore.

And now somewhere on that eternal drop zone.
Stands one who hollers and beats on the door.
Won't you break down and hand out a drink there St. Peter.
To Francine Mc Filthy, the skydiver's whore.

A substantial number of these songs came from Orange., MA (my home DZ.) I knew a lot of the people who wrote them and sung them at the famous Inn at Orange.
I'd really like to figure out how to preserve of these memories. Except maybe at Lost Prairie, skydivers don't to sing anymore.

HW

It's actually the Cock Chorus, different anatomically from the Crack Choir.

madjohn

I knew that. :-)

HW

As a young jumper, along with excessive drinking, I was introduced to a lot of the Songs & Poems (and variations thereof) featured in this thread. It's great to see them again, and to learn new ones.

Over the years I have written a few of my own. They are usually inspired by the funny things that happen at DZ's, competitions and at Boogies etc. Mostly they would only be understood by people who were there.

Sometimes the not so funny things also inspire:

In SA skydiving, we refer to the planet earth as "The Stone". ("Die Klip" in Afrikaans)
Despite the many who have failed at trying to beat The Stone in a one on one hitting match, every year more line up to try. Some pay the ultimate price.

To the tune of "Rainy Day Women #12 And #35"--Bob Dylan-(AKA: Everybody Must Get Stoned)

Everybody Loses To The Stone. LP.

Well the stone wins when you're trying to be so cool,
The stone will win because you are a fool.
The stone will warn you first it is quite fair
A roasted knee- some dust gets in your hair.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody loses to the stone.

Well the stone wins when you think that you are good,
The stone will win just like they said it would.
Your friends will have to drive you to your home,
The stone will warn you with a broken bone,
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody loses to the stone.

Well the stone wins when you thought you hooked it sweet,
When you're broken from your hips down to your feet.
The stone wins when you're lying on your bed
The pain is still a-throbbing in your head.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody loses to the stone.

Well the stone wins as the months they slowly pass,
You're still pulling grass and thorns out of your ass.
You're only mobile with a set of crutches
Arth--ritis has you in it's evil clutches.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody loses to the stone.

Well the stone wins when you think you can return
The stone wins when you make that last low turn.
At the church they'll say that you were really brave
The stone has won and you are in your grave.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody loses to the stone.

Quote

Quote

I have talked with both Laura Sharp at Parachutist and the Blue Skies folks about a story on songs over the years but they seem to balk at "Francine McFilthy, the Skydiving Whore," and a serious sociology story, "The Cock Choir."
I might have to self-publish.

HW

"Francine Mc Filthy"

by Little David

To the tune of "Streets of Larado"

There was a young maiden of age fifty-seven.
Who drove a blank gore like you've never seen before.
She drank and she cussed, and she smelled to high heaven.
That's Francine Mc Filthy, the skydiver's whore.

We went to a jump meet in Carson, Nevada.
The troops were all lined up at the Moonlight Ranch door.
But out in the bushes, one went for a quarter.
That's Francine Mc Filthy, the skydiver's whore.

Old Francine the queen of barnstorming banditos.
Would punch out S.O.S. 'till her knuckles were sore.
She'd make Pope and Bishop, in seventeen seconds,
Then take on nine jumpers, that's skydivers whore.

Way back in the old barnstorming days, I flew an old jenny.
The struts were all broken, the fabric was tore.
And out on the jumpstep, stood Francine Mc Filthy.
The pride of Milpitas, that skydiver's whore.

Francine was married to old Ernie Perkins;
The wedding took place in the back of a store;
The troops was all drinkin' and fightin' and yellin',
And Ernie got cursed wid' a skydiving whore.

Old Francine looked lovely, she smiled at the preacher.
A pioneer jumpsuit, the gown that she wore.
Behind her sweet back, she gave us the finger.
That raunchy old bastard, that skydiver's whore.

The marriage was short lived, and so was old Ernie.
He crashed through a church roof, and died on the floor.
Francine missed the funeral, for a night jump at Chico.
So what's more important to a skydiving whore.

Then one day it happened, her navy rig failed her.
She tracked for Lake Merrit, but just made the shore.
She closed bloodshot eyes, and smiled through her AssHole...
And that was the end of our skydiving whore.

So hang your head low boys and cry in your muscat.
The pride of Milpitas is with us no more.
And the noise that your hear at twelve-five is not thunder.
But the voice of old Francine, our skydiving whore.

And now somewhere on that eternal drop zone.
Stands one who hollers and beats on the door.
Won't you break down and hand out a drink there St. Peter.
To Francine Mc Filthy, the skydiver's whore.

Hi Jimmy and Howard,
Oh the songs!! As long as there are Skydivers there will be songs to sing!! 'Got a copy of "The Parachute Songbook" Dickie and Marilin Webb at the old "Rumbleseat Tavern" at old Elsinore had a few for sale back in '67 or so, 'bought one. Yup Francine was in it. Here some bunch of trips around the sun later I wonder. Somewhere in Central Cal. where the old Diablo and Calistoga Skydivers used to roam, is a lonely old Church Graveyard with two tombstones side by side, for Ernie and Francine Perkins. If you stand at their graveside and listen, that's not the wind you hear but the sound of old cheapo's opening on high and the laughter of old Skydivers who know why the birds sing!!

Maybe Little David age 39 1/2 might know where Fran and Ernie r.i.p.???

This was written by my dad, Little David Demarest too. I have his original song book somewhere.

It's remarkable how clean most of these are, in comparison to the rugby song book.

Haha, I think they've been cleaned up a bit, my dad wouldn't even let me see the original. I had to wait till he was gone, and I still haven't read all of them!