Alex Clark
Registered User
Life Long Alaskan
Little Yellow Cub versus the Volcano
The Little Yellow Cub watched the horizon, with growing concern.
The lava under Saint Augustine Volcano, was starting to churn.
The molten island was trembling, while venting ash a mile into the sky.
A little more pressure and the hot lava rocks would start to fly.
The Little Yellow Cub, was not afraid of the smoke or the ashes.
And she could always dodge lava rocks, that fell into the sea with big splashes.
Her worry was an explosion like the one in eighteen-eighty-and three..
The one that made wave after wave, taller than the tallest tree.
Water like that would swamp her little airstrip and favorite landing beaches,
And wipe out the Homer Flight Service Station, where the radio gave speeches.
She was all on her own, her pet human was nowhere to be found.
So she slipped off her wing covers, like a satin evening gown.
She didn’t have a battery or starter, that kept her nimble and light.
So the spirit of Bill Piper pulled her prop through, so she could get into the fight…
She slipped her moorings and taxied straight over to runway Zero-Three,
Then she blasted down the ice-covered asphalt, and turned out towards the sea.
Then back over Homer, in a full-power, tight bank, she did turn,
Diving towards the Brewery, while her exhaust gaskets started to burn.
She swooped from the heavens and snatched her weapon of good cheer.
For between her tundra tires, she clutched a huge barrel of Homer Beer.
She then sped across the ocean, her engine screaming along.
She was twice over gross weight, but she was built "Piper Cub" strong.
She skimmed over the waves, dodging lava rocks, her carb choking with ashes.
If she ever got to the erupting Volcano, she was going to be kicking some asses.
She arrived at the island, her fabric holed with small burns.
Then she struggled for altitude, in a series of rock dodging turns.
Five thousand, eight thousand, then ten and some change.
Her cylinders were red hot from the work-load, her valves starting to bang.
She spotted the lava vent hole, the doorway to hell.
Where the ancient God Hades was weaving his molten lava spell.
The Little Yellow Cub never hesitated and went right into a dive.
It might cost her everything, to keep the people of Homer alive.
Her airspeed ran past the red-line and she started to quake.
Then she gripped the barrel of Beer and gave it a good shake.
Old Hades looked up through his vent hole, from his hot underworld home.
And saw he was being dived bombed by a Piper Cub, with a big barrel of Beer Foam.
With fist raised, he opened his mouth and was ready to shout.
When an explosion of Homer Beer,,,, put his Volcano out.
Her Beer-Bomb gone, The Little Yellow Cub pulled out of her steep dive.
Her tundra tires raced down the lava covered mountain, but Goodyear kept her alive.
Her fuel was exhausted, her engine ready to seize,
The slipstream blowing through her burnt fabric, like wind through the trees.
So down on the beach by Bruin Bay, she landed with a couple of thumps.
Then taxied above high tide mark and wedged herself between two tree stumps.
Her pet human found her the next day, and restored her with loving care.
Not only had she saved all the planes and people of Homer, but she flew where not even the greatest of Eagles would ever dare……
Alex Clark
Homer, Alaska
January 2006
The Little Yellow Cub watched the horizon, with growing concern.
The lava under Saint Augustine Volcano, was starting to churn.
The molten island was trembling, while venting ash a mile into the sky.
A little more pressure and the hot lava rocks would start to fly.
The Little Yellow Cub, was not afraid of the smoke or the ashes.
And she could always dodge lava rocks, that fell into the sea with big splashes.
Her worry was an explosion like the one in eighteen-eighty-and three..
The one that made wave after wave, taller than the tallest tree.
Water like that would swamp her little airstrip and favorite landing beaches,
And wipe out the Homer Flight Service Station, where the radio gave speeches.
She was all on her own, her pet human was nowhere to be found.
So she slipped off her wing covers, like a satin evening gown.
She didn’t have a battery or starter, that kept her nimble and light.
So the spirit of Bill Piper pulled her prop through, so she could get into the fight…
She slipped her moorings and taxied straight over to runway Zero-Three,
Then she blasted down the ice-covered asphalt, and turned out towards the sea.
Then back over Homer, in a full-power, tight bank, she did turn,
Diving towards the Brewery, while her exhaust gaskets started to burn.
She swooped from the heavens and snatched her weapon of good cheer.
For between her tundra tires, she clutched a huge barrel of Homer Beer.
She then sped across the ocean, her engine screaming along.
She was twice over gross weight, but she was built "Piper Cub" strong.
She skimmed over the waves, dodging lava rocks, her carb choking with ashes.
If she ever got to the erupting Volcano, she was going to be kicking some asses.
She arrived at the island, her fabric holed with small burns.
Then she struggled for altitude, in a series of rock dodging turns.
Five thousand, eight thousand, then ten and some change.
Her cylinders were red hot from the work-load, her valves starting to bang.
She spotted the lava vent hole, the doorway to hell.
Where the ancient God Hades was weaving his molten lava spell.
The Little Yellow Cub never hesitated and went right into a dive.
It might cost her everything, to keep the people of Homer alive.
Her airspeed ran past the red-line and she started to quake.
Then she gripped the barrel of Beer and gave it a good shake.
Old Hades looked up through his vent hole, from his hot underworld home.
And saw he was being dived bombed by a Piper Cub, with a big barrel of Beer Foam.
With fist raised, he opened his mouth and was ready to shout.
When an explosion of Homer Beer,,,, put his Volcano out.
Her Beer-Bomb gone, The Little Yellow Cub pulled out of her steep dive.
Her tundra tires raced down the lava covered mountain, but Goodyear kept her alive.
Her fuel was exhausted, her engine ready to seize,
The slipstream blowing through her burnt fabric, like wind through the trees.
So down on the beach by Bruin Bay, she landed with a couple of thumps.
Then taxied above high tide mark and wedged herself between two tree stumps.
Her pet human found her the next day, and restored her with loving care.
Not only had she saved all the planes and people of Homer, but she flew where not even the greatest of Eagles would ever dare……
Alex Clark
Homer, Alaska
January 2006
yet.
