The Spirit Of St. Louis by Scott Damgaard


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March 15 & 16, 2002

Every time I fly, I think of Charles Lindbergh
Things have come a long way since then
Flying across the Atlantic Ocean with a single prop engine
Who'd ever want to try that again?

New York City to Paris takes only about eight hours
But it took Charles Lindbergh over thirty three
No radio or radar, just a compass and a map
And a drive to be the first one to cross the sea

    This DC-9 got us here fine
    Thanks to the Captain and crew that flew us
    But my hat's truly off to the one who flew solo
    In the Spirit of St. Louis

Before he left New York, he had flown in from St. Louis
And he hadn't had any sleep
Many men had tried to cross the Atlantic before him
But all of them perished in the deep

With skill and pride and the faith he could do it
Lindbergh said, "I'm ready to go"
Off into the morning, Charles Lindbergh took flight
Would he make it? Nobody did know

    This DC-9 got us here fine
    Thanks to the Captain and crew that flew us
    But my hat's truly off to the one who flew solo
    In the Spirit of St. Louis

Half way 'cross the Atlantic sleet formed on his wings
Bringing weight which could force him down
He had flown through a storm cloud and had to get out
So he turned his plane around

He tipped his wings toward the warm rays of the sun
Which melted all of the sleet
He turned 'round again to head back towards Paris
This time dodging every cloud he would meet

    This DC-9 got us here fine
    Thanks to the Captain and crew that flew us
    But my hat's truly off to the one who flew solo
    In the Spirit of St. Louis

As hard as he tried he could not stay awake
And the weight of his eyelids bore down
High over the ocean he fell into sleep
And his plane started circling around

This could have ended his flight then and there
But it didn't and I'll tell you why
In the midst of his nap he gave his own face a slap
And was awoken by a pesky fly

    This DC-9 got us here fine
    Thanks to the Captain and crew that flew us
    But my hat's truly off to the one who flew solo
    In the Spirit of St. Louis

He righted his plane to get back on course
But how far off, he just didn't know
Out over the ocean fog things all looked the same
How much farther did he have to go?

On he flew sometimes just ten feet over the waves
When suddenly in the distance he saw land
He circled down close to a small fishing boat
And shouted, "which way is Ireland?"

    This DC-9 got us here fine
    Thanks to the Captain and crew that flew us
    But my hat's truly off to the one who flew solo
    In the Spirit of St. Louis

He pulled out his map, adjusted his course
And pointed the Spirit of St. Louis towards France
The adrenaline rushed, but was it enough?
He was awake, but almost in a trance

Then the lights of the Paris airport cut through the dense night
Charles Lindbergh had finally arrived
A hundred thousand were cheering as the wheels touched the ground
He made it! And he made it alive!

    This DC-9 got us here fine
    Thanks to the Captain and crew that flew us
    But my hat's truly off to the one who flew solo
    In the Spirit of St. Louis
By Scott Damgaard
Copyright 2002
scott@scottdamgaard.com

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