T'was a dark and stormy night,

Then rested 'neath the rainy might,

So too the plane, in dawn's gray light.

The varied drops on surfaces set,

The cockpit cover so soaking wet

There's trouble here, there's trouble yet.

 

So I shook the tail whilst inned at OSH.

From there was heard a muffled slosh,

a muffled slosh, from within b'gosh

of water trapped.

Yes, therein trapped.

Mind's images quickly tapped.

 

For then I knew my role -

The water bowl,

betwixt bulkhead and hole,

must be drained.

Must be drained

and not retained.

 

I moved the tail from high to low

and back again to start the flow.

The flush was slow

to leave the tail,

to leave without fail,

no need to bail.

 

At least the hole was big enough

to drain the plane of watery stuff.

And thus, comments made off-the-cuff:

Beware the rain;

Check the drain;

Avoid the pain.

 

Grayhawk

Returning to the institution for a higher med dose.