Listen my children and you shall hear
of the midnight ride of Jacqueline, dear.
On the Eighteenth of April, Sixty-Two
Hardly a relative that I knew
who remembers that awesome day and year.
I said to my friend, “I’m a stranded fright!
By land or by sea. I need to be home
from this town tonight. So book me a flight
from Burbank, I flee. I’m a Florida gnome!”
I, on the opposite West coast must be
One if by land or two if by flight
ready to go and spread my wings, right
to the town of West Palm, my Eastern home.
Burt bid me goodbye in his Reynold’s voice;
hands me an ad; says, “Now make your own choice.”
Booked is my trip called a “Non-Schd” flight.
For this, I’m Eighty-Eight Dollars too light.
See Burbank/Miami as the crow flies.
Just as the moon rose o’er eastern skies,
obtain`ed my seat on its riveted deck:
shake rattle and roll o’er the Grand Canyon, heck!
Its a long way to Florida, yet!
My Non-Scheduled flight lands in Chicago;
O’Hare’s the place where we’re ‘no-go’ again!
Then on a bus load all your gear and girth;
some may not smile or be so full of mirth.
After you board the bus of their choice
they then collect money; taking no voice.
So much for my trip to outer Mars
on a plane called the ‘Airline of the Stars’!