The Legend Of Forty Second Boyd Poem by Mark Anderson

On a high desert plain in the hot afternoon sun,
The maintenance crew prepares my F100 Hun.
Like putting on a suit two sizes too small,
My world is compressed into this tight little ball.

I've come here to train and show my best,
To knock an instructor out of his nest.
But there is one instructor all should avoid,
and that is the legend of Forty Second Boyd.

He would be kind to allow you forty seconds or more,
He'll hose you faster than slamming a door.
The game starts in a simple operation,
He throttles up the power and goes for separation.

Pulling G's so hard pushing blood into your thighs,
Then flat plating the bird to watch the crowd go by.
Lead with the rudder and move in close,
Pull the stick back and release the hose.

It's all over now and I must face the debrief,
The critique is hard and I get no relief.
Worse than being analyzed by Sigmund Freud,
Is hearing the laughter of Forty Second Boyd.