CURLY:- And now our rivals took the field, And we could only kick our heels And watch the R.100 fly her trials: Bit of a brute to look at And built as plain and simple As ours was built too fancy and complex. Barnes Wallis Was a copper-bottomed genius; Worked out every nut and bolt himself, A proper one-man band, Not a committee in sight...
The R.100 cost more or less Half as much as ours, But she still had Twenty tons more lifting power, And they could put her along Fifteen knots faster than us: That's eighty miles an hour To our sixty-three. It was egg-on-face time; No one had expected them To be this good. Mind you, they'd been allowed to use Good old petrol engines, 'Cause they would just be flying The Canadian run, While us spoilt darlings Had the prestige India route...
Our bosses ground their teeth And seethed in secret conferences. While all us flying men were busy Wangling a ride. And she swam as sure and steady As a healthy whale; She sailed through all her tests And made ready for the crossing. Then off the lucky beggars went, No crowds, no fanfares, Pulling like a train Across the black Atlantic...
Those Canadians went daft When she arrived...
Within two weeks a million trippers Came to Montreal to see her. And then she calmly trundled home To a deafening official silence And the news the crew would now Go on half-pay. That's when we heard the story: How Lucky had run her at full speed Through the middle of a thunderstorm Over Quebec. That damn foolhardy stunt Could easily have brought her down; l began to worry just a bit About our cheerful chief...