The Veteran (or Chronologically Gifted) IPMS Member
(to the tune of “My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean”)
Though there’s armour and vehicles and figures
And ship kits – such things I disdain:
Let other folk deal with their rigours
My models are all “aero plain”.
Yes, I’ve models of every known airplane
And a few that you can’t classify
And I’m proud of their one common feature:
That none of the buggers can fly.
So each year I’ve trekked to the “Nationals”
To gaze on a comforting scene:
Those acres of motionless aircraft
With the odd tank and warship between.
But now that I’m pickled with “Britfix”
And my hands have repetitive strain
And my eyesight is rapidly fading
I’ve embarked on my last “Hurricane”.
So when, by “The Great Modelmaker”,
I’m debonded from all Earthly glue,
Let my friends gather down at the Clubhouse
And then – just as I used to do …..
Take a fuselage, wings and a rudder,
An undercart and a tailplane,
Spray the innards with green and black “Humbrol”
And assemble an aircraft again.