Young Lad
Jumped by fighters
Hiding in the Sun
Firing Brownings and Hispanos
Young lad was on the run
But quick the fighters learned
Their surprise was for naught
Soon they were the hunted
They were the caught
Young lad
Whirled in a hurry
Face twisted in hate
Eyes burning with fury
No quarter
No holding back
Screaming a battle cry
He went on the attack
Young lad
Made quite the impression
Three Spitfires down
In rapid succession
The remaining fighters ran
Young lad gave pursuit
Downing two more Spitfires
And a Hurricane to boot
It was a glorious end
To a glorious chase
On that glorious day
Peter Pan made Ace
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