Tail Dragger

I wrote this poem for a flying magazine many, many years ago. It was written to poke fun at a friend of mine who had never flown a tail dragging aircraft.  I guess it sort of went viral although at that time there was no viral.  It seems to keep popping

  up in strange places from time to time.  Thought Y'all might enjoy it.

Taildragger, I hate your guts,
I have the license, ratings and such.
But to make you go straight is driving me nuts.

With hours of teaching and the controls in my clutch.
It takes a little rudder, easy, that's too much.

You see, I learned to fly in a tricycle gear
with one up front and two back here.
She was sleek and clean and easy to steer
But this miserable thing with wires and struts
Takes a little rudder, easy, that's too much.

It demands your attention on the take-off roll
or it heads towards Jones' as you pour on the coal.
Gotta hang loose, don't over control.
This wicked little plane is just too much.

With a lot of zigzagging and words obscene
I think I've mastered this slippery machine
It's not that bad if you have the touch
Just a little rudder, easy, that's too much.

I relax for a second and from the corner of my eye,
I suddenly realize with a gasp and a cry
That's my own tail that's going by.
You grounding looping wretch; I hate your guts,
Give a little rudder, Great Scott, THAT'S TOOOO MUCH.