Young Capt. Billy, come fly your beast,
From Denver, Colorado to somewhere east,

Your plane is fueled and ready and we'll watch your trip on radar,
You know that fighter/bomber like a family car,

No one knows what happened, just that off the screen he dropped
Over desolate mountains, and we know he never stopped

At an airbase en route, or civilian airstrip --
All we know is that he's missing on a routine training trip,

Below a craggy precipice, some bits and pieces lay,
Could they mark the spot where Billy crashed upon that day?

We will never know till springtime if his aircraft went to rest
Beneath that snowy mountaintop while heading east to west.

                                                        by D. Edgar Murray