Mr. Atkins, do not mingle with other passengers
We flew to Oakland Airport, were ready for a beer,
The airport man 'e up an' sez, "there's no deplaning here.
Behind the baggage trailers, that's where you'll leave the plane."
I gets into the plane again an' mutters, half-insane:
O it's GI this, an' GI that, an' "GI, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Joseph,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Joseph,'' when the band begins to play.
(with thanks to Rudyard Kipling)
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