A lament to the Lightning's
No more will we see your kind again in the skies of Lincolnshire,
What's left of you are just airframes scattered in museums,
A fading memory of your past glories.
You were never just a machine to me,
You had a heart and soul like a living being,
You were so perfect in your design,
You never had to carry out the grim reality of the duty you were designed for,
Was it just irony the only plane you had to shoot down was a Harrier abandoned by its pilot.
You served your duty well,
Being based across Britain, Cyprus and West Germany,
The roar of your two mighty Avon jet engines echoed across the skies,
Sounding like the thunder that always accompanied lightning in a storm.
From when your prototypes first flew in the fifties,
No other airplane could match combination of power, speed
