He set aside studios
For people in his space
Developed quite an industry
Set a cracking pace.
Didn’t go much for the arts,
Apart from photographs.
And many scale models of new and old aircraft.
Bunbury flying schools club house
with its unique display,
of every kite known to man.
Hanging From the ceiling,
diving from the walls.
There’s aircraft in the hangars,
there’s aircraft homing in,
from all points you could call.
They’re doing bumps and circuits,
learning how to fly
And the “nanchang” pilots
diving from way up in the sky.
Pulling out on G force,
that leaves your boots behind.
Rolling slowly on a wing tip
as landscape flashes by.
Dissapearing for the moment,
seems hours dragging by.
Reappears across the ranges,
Distant speck in a blue sky.
Studios in cloud breaks.
Dreamin’ as we fly.
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