oh wow, it's been a long time since I was in a bar on base listening to the drunks sing songs made up when they were far from home and bored, but if you miss those lousy melodies sung by soldiers and flyboys, you're gionna love this

The 523rd Tactical Fighter Squadron's Song Book (typed up in 1958)

Made by: 

 THE ROYAL AUSTRALIAN AIR FORCE No. 79(F) SQUADRON, UBON, THAILAND, 196.2 - 63 THE ROYAL AUSTRALIAN AIR FORCE No. 77(F) SQUADRON, JAPAN AND KOREA, 1950 - 51 THE UNITED STATES AIR FORCE SONG BOOK COMPILED AND EDITED BY "BILL STAR" 27th TACTICAL FIGHTER WING, CANNON AFB, NEW MEXICO 

 "SONGS WE NEVER QUITE REMEMBER" COMPILED BY THE 506th TACTICAL FIGHTER WING UNITED STATES AIR FORCE 

 ALL THE INDIVIDUAL MEN OF THE AIR FORCE THAT HAVE CONTRIBUTED SONGS, IN ANY MANNER, TO THIS EPISTLE. 

 SONGS MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME, VOLUMES I and II

This collection of bawdy ballads, limericks and US Air Force songs was compiled in the 1950's by Lt. Col. William John Starr, USAF. 

He probably started compiling the material during his first tour flying the F-86 Sabre jet out of Kimpo Air Base, "K-14" Korea in1953-54. At the time of the book's unofficial completion, around 1957-58, he was flying the North American F-100 Super Sabre at Cannon Air Force Base in New Mexico.

https://www.horntip.com/html/books_&_MSS/1960s/1963_fighter_pilots_songbook_(mimeo)/index.htm

or see the PDF, https://www.horntip.com/html/books_&_MSS/1960s/1963_fighter_pilots_songbook_(mimeo)/1963_fighter_pilots_song_book_(lydia_fish_collection).pdf

GIVE ME OPERATIONS 

Don't give me a P-38, the props they counter-rotate
They've scattered and amitten from Burma to Britain
Don't give me a P-38.

Chorus:

 Just give me operations 

Way out on some lonely atoll

 For I am too young to die

 I just want to grow old*

 Don't give me a P-39
The engine is mounted behind
They'll tumble and spin and auger you in
Don't give me a P-39

Don't give me a peter four oh, a hell of an airplane I know
A gound loopin bastardy you're sure to get plastered
Don't give me a peter four oh,

Don't give me a P-51

 it was alright for fighting the hun
But with coolant tank dry, you'll run out of sky
Don't give me a P-51.

Don't give me a P-61, for night flying is no fun
They say it's a lark, but I'm scared of the dark
Don't give me a P-6l

Don't give me an F-84, 

she's just a gound loving whore
She'll whine moan and wheeze and she'll clobber the trees
Don't give me an F-84

Don't give me an old thunderbolt, 

it gave many a pilot a jolt
It looks like a jug and it flies like a tug
Don't give me an old thunderbolt

Don't give me a jet shooting star, 

it'll go, but not very far
It'll rumble and spout, but soon will flame out
Don't give me a jet shooting star,

Don't give me an F86, 

with wings like broken match sticks
They'll zoom and they'll hover, but as for top cover
Don't give me an F-86

Don't give me an F-89, 

Tho TIME says they'll really climb
They're all in the states, all boxed up in crates
Don't give me an F-89

Don't give me an F-94

 it's never established a score
It may fly in weather, but won't hold together
Don't give me an F-94

Don't give me an 86-D, 

with rockets, radar and A/B
She's fast I don't care, she blows up in mid-air
Don't give me an 86-D

Don't give me a C-45, 

so slow it stalls out in a dive
A ground loop built in it, and bird colonels in it
Don't give me a C-45.

Don't give me a C54,

 six inches of rugs on the floor
And we'll go fat-cat'n, from here to Manhattan
Don't give me a C-54

Don't give me a B-45, 

the pilots don't get back alive
The Mig 15 fs chase em, they soon will erase em
Don't give me a B-45.

Don't give a one-double-O, 

The bastard is ready to blow
The A/B is there, but you're saying a prayer
Don't give me a one-double-O.

Don't give me an F-102,

 it never goes up when its blue
An all weather coffin, that flames out so often
Don't give me an F-102

..................................................................................................................................................................

THE AIR FORCE LAMENT

(Tune - The Battle Hymn of the Republic)

Mine eyes have seen the days of men who ruled the fighting sky
With hearts that laughed at death, who lived for nothing but to fly
But now those hearts are grounded, and those days are long gone by
The Air Force's gone to hell

My bones have felt their pounding throb, a hundred thousand strong
A mighty airborne legion set to right the deadly wrong
But now it' s only memory, it only lives in song
The Air Force's gone to hell

I have seen them in their T-bolts, when their eyes were dancing flame
I've seen their screaming power dives, that blasted Goering's name
But now they fly like sissies and they hang their heads in shame
Their spirits shot to hell

Once they flew B-26's through a living hell of flak
And bloody dying pilots, gave their lives to bring them back
But now they all plan ping pong in the operations shack
Their technique's gone to hell

The lordly flying fortress and the liberator too
Once wrote the doom of Germany, with contrails in the blue
But now the skies are empty, and our planes are wet with dew
And we can't fly for hell

You have heard your pounding 50s blaze from wings of polished steel
The purring of your Merlin was a song your heart could feel
But now the L5 charms you with its moanin, groanin squeal
And it won't climb for hell

Have you ever climbed a lightening up to where the air is thin?
Have you stuck her long nose downward, just to hear the screaming din?
Have you tried to do it lately, better not you'll auger in
And then you'll sure catch hell

Hap Arnold built a fighting team that sang a fighting song
About the wild blue yonder in the days when men were strong
But now we're closely supervised for fear we may do wrong
The Air Force's gone to hell

We were cocky bold and happy when we played the angel's game
We split the blue with buzzing, and we flew our way to fame
But now that's all forgotten and we're all so goddamn tame
Our spirits' shot to hell

One day I buzzed an airfield with another reckless chap
We flew a hot formation with his wingtip in my lap
But there's a new directive and we'll have no more of that
Or you will burn in hell

Mine eyes get dim with tears when I recall the days of old
When pilots took their choice of being old, or young and bold
Alas I have no choice and will live to be quite old
The Air Force's gone to hell

But smile awhile my pilots though your eyes may still be wet
Someday we'll be in heaven where the rules have not been set
And God will show us how to buzz and roll and really let 
The Air Force fly like hell