Sky King - Kris Kristofferson

Every mornin at line you’d see him arrive

He stood five-foot-six about one-eighty-five

About as broad at the shoulder as he was at the hip

Everybody knew he didn’t give a shit, sky king

Now some say Sky was born in New Orleans

Where he built hisself a rotor on a sewing machine

Cut his teeth on a collective pitch

Old Sky was a low flyin son of a bitch, sky king

Sky King

Sky King

Short fat sky

And then came a day at Stage Field Nine

When his engine failed and men started cryin

And sirens screamed and hearts beat fast

And everybody thought he’d breathed his last, 'cept Sky

Well he pushed that collective on down through the floor

But the damn rotorblade wouldn’t turn anymore

So his butt puckered up and with a frightening sound

He just sucked that old chopper up off of the ground, Sky King

The ship wasn’t hurt but it took half the class

To get the seat cover out of Sky King’s ass, Sky King

Well they never reopened that landing strip

They just put a marble stand on top of it

And these few words are written on that thing

Ain’t a butt that can pucker like old Sky King’s