An unnamed Test Pilot and Division Director, Jack Lawrence, who shall remain nameless, would occasionally author some appropriate musical accompaniment for various AEFA social events.  These would generally contain some "humorous commentary" on the current events at the organization and various individuals of the time.  A selected sampling follows henceforth.

Since I was a young lad, there’s just one dream that I’ve had,
That’s to fly in an old time war plane.
I thought I had found one, it sounded like such fun,
The T-28 was it’s name.
So I got in position to get a transition,
Ol’ Bruce taught me all that he knew.
He finally let me go, and turned me loose solo,
But heaven, if he only knew.

(Chorus:)
You picked a fine time to leave me, nose wheel.
The girl in the tower says you’re still on the field.
I looked in the -10, it just says "Good Luck!"
and this whole damned thing just can’t be real.
You picked a fine time to leave me, nose wheel.

So I called back the tower, said I’m puttin’ in the power,
And I’m climbin’ to 10,000 feet.
My voice never quivered as I sat there and shivered
In that hundred and ten degree heat.
As I cruised around thinkin’, my fuel light started blinkin’,
And the engine ran rougher it seemed.
Then a fire on the wing made me jump from that thing,
And as I pulled my D-handle I screamed...
(repeat chorus)

SLINGIN’
(to the tune of "Swingin’")

Now there’s a helicopter, and it’s name is mud,
A CH-47, and it sure ain’t lookin’ good.
But we had to go and fly one, so we filled out all the forms,
Walked out into the hangar, and this was goin’ on:
Randy was in the left seat, eatin’ chocolate pie,
Lester was the crew chief, made me want to cry.
We put Terry in the right seat and we taxied out to fly,
When operations called and said, "Get up there in the sky!"

(Chorus:)
We’re goin’ slingin’, yeah, we’ll be slingin’.
We pick em’ up so easy and we set em’ down so soft.
We never get em’ rockin, and we’ve never punched one off,
We’re goin’ slingin’.

Way up on old Mt. Whitney there’s a hiker in distress.
Pulls out his backpack radio and sends this SOS:
"Please help me, send the Army, for them it is a cinch.
Tell them to bring the Shithook, and don’t even use the winch."
(repeat chorus)

WARRANTS
(to the tune of "Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys")

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be warrants.
Don’t let ‘em do preflights or fill out log books,
Make ‘em be Captains and Majors and such.
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be warrants.
They never come home and they don’t even phone,
And leave their poor loved ones alone.

Warrants like dirty old flight suits and scotch in their water.
They wear great big watches and survival knives,
And most of their paychecks goes to their ex-wives.
5000 flight hours through snowstorms and showers
And two tours in Nam flyin’ slicks,
Makes plenty of war stories to tell at the bar,
With plenty of lies just for kicks.
(repeat first verse)

STAFF MEETING
(to the tune of "Alabama Jubilee")

You ought to see Mr. Lynch when he gets in a pinch,
Old Colonel Todd, who is starting to nod,
Captain Purdy who ain’t there ‘til 10:30,
Cause he’s givin’ a PT test, tryin’ to be his best.
Old Tom Kengott, shoutin’ "Fly what you got!"
And Don can talk himself out of the tightest spot,
Oh, Austin, Hell! Hell! The buck stops here,
Unless we make it through the fiscal year.

THE TDY SONG
(to the tune of "Whistle While You Work")

Don’t whistle while you pack, (whistle),
Don’t ever grin or start right in to whistle loud and long.
Don’t hum a merry tune, (hum),
Put on a frown ‘til you’re out of town, don’t ever sing a song.

Say, "I can’t help it, dear,
I didn’t volunteer,
I’ve got to go, my job you know,
I’ve got to think of my career."

Don’t whistle while you pack, (whistle),
The other course leads to divorce,
don’t whistle while you pack.

BOONDOGGLE
(to the tune of "Down In The Boondocks")

(Chorus:)
Out on a boondoggle, out on a boondoggle,
People put me down cause I’m not the kind of clown who can find one.
Mike goes to Miramar, Mark goes to Monterey,
Jim goes to Tonopah, Dave goes to San Jose,
Lord have mercy on the boy who can’t find a boondoggle.
One fine day I’ll find a way to get one past the Pup.
I’ll keep it quiet if I can, but I’ll never never give it up.
Until that day I’ll watch the book with a pencil in my hand,
And wherever I see Randy’s name, I’ll sign up as his copilot man.
(repeat chorus)

GUARD SHACK BLUES
(to the tune of "Folsom Prison Blues")

She heard that Blackhawk comin’,
And went runnin’ for the door.
But the rotor wash was waitin’,
And knocked her to the floor.
In the wreckage of the guard shack,
She lay in pain and swore,
"Even if they pay me double,
I won’t guard this nuthouse no more."

QUARTERS BLUES
(to the tune of "Green, Green Grass of Home")

The ol’ front lawn was lookin’ dry,
When I got home from TDY,
And there to meet me was the housing inspector.
Then in the house I looked and there sat Kerry,
Hair in curlers, eatin’ chocolate cherries,
While the sun burned up the green, green grass of home.

MY TWELVE AEFA PROJECTS
(to the tune of "Twelve Days of Christmas",
wish I still had the slide show....)

On my first AEFA project the Colonel gave to me,
An instrumentated Huey.

On my _____ AEFA project,
the Colonel gave to me,
Two engineers...  
Three wrench hands...
Four apalling nerds...  
Five golden arms...
Six geeks a’ weighing...
Seven phones a’ ringing...
Eight maids a’ milking...
Nine yahoos dancing...
Ten lards a’ feeding...
Eleven typers typing...
Twelve programs running...

UNDERPUPPY
(to the tune of "Rubber Ducky")

Underpuppy, you’re the one,
You made AEFA so much fun,
Underpuupy, we’re awfully fond of you.

Underpuppy, we’re your boys,
When we tease you, you make noise,
Underpuppy, you’re your very best friend, it’s true.

Oh, when VIPs are near, the Colonel makes you the briefer,
Cause ther ain’t anybody who piles it higher or deeper.
Never a sleeper!

Underpuppy, Dirty Don,
We’re gonna miss you when you’re gone,
Underpuppy we’re awfully fond of you.

Oh, anytime that we get our projects in snarls,
We call the LTC that reminds us so much of Prince Charles,
But no more tomorrows.

Underpuppy, don’t leave us alone,
No one to answer that speaker phone,
Underpuppy, we’re awfully fond of,
Underpuppy, we’d like a whole kennel of,
Underpuppy, we’re awfully fond of you.

NON-DIRECTIONAL DAVE
(to the tune of "Do You Know The Way To San Jose")

Do you know the way to San Jose,
I’m pretty sure it’s not 3000 miles the other way.
Don’t ask Dave the way to San Jose,
He’ll send all the acoss the U.S.A.

Stash your frequent flyer program,
Put your orders down and rent a car.
Dave, its really not very far.
You can get there in less than a day,
Not thru L.A., or J.F.K., or Houston International.

Dave don’t know the way to San Jose, ...........
He gets there thru D.C. National, ...............
Can we trust him out to Bakersfield, .............

TPS REGGIE
(to the tune of "Rollin’ In My Sweet Baby’s Arms")

He ain’t gonna work no more at AEFA,
In fact he ain’t gonna work no more at all.
Gonna lay around at Pax on the rotary wing staff,
And roll in the sweet Navy’s arms.

(Chorus): Rollin’ in the sweet Navy’s arms,
Rollin’ in the sweet Navy’s arms,
Gonna lay around at Pax on the rotary wing staff,
And roll in the sweet Navy’s arms.

Sometimes there’s a change in the ocean,
Sometimes there’s a change in the sea,
Sometimes there’s even a change in the textbooks,
But they’ll find there ain’t no change in Reggie.
(repeat chorus)

No matter if he don’t know how to write so fine,
No matter if he forgets how to fly,
As long as he can add his way to 2.9,
And keep that ol’ red pencil by his side.
(repeat chorus)

Every TPS IP meets one condition,
The TPUI’s down the hall all hate his guts,
And not being one to break tradition,
I’m sure Reggie’s gonna drive those suckers nuts.
(repeat chorus)

JIM’S LAMENT
(to the tune of "The Gambler")

You got to know how to roll, know how to split-S,
Get through an Immelmann, and know how to spin.
You better learn how to swallow, while you’re sittin’ at the throttle.
There is time enough for throwin’ up when you taxi in.