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