sung to the tune of: "Ghost Riders in the Sky"
Rabitski went a flyin’ out one dark and stormy day.
He sipped a Hudepohl-Schoenling* as he went along his way.
When all at once a mighty pack of Messershmitts he saw,
Huntin’ through forgotten skies, saber talons of the claw.
Their stacks were blazing fire, their guns lookin’ for a meal,
Their pistons were a poudin’, their hearts burstin’ for kriegspiel!
A blast of gas passed from him as he tossed his beer aside,
The one-oh-nines were drivin’ hard, their trims were on a slide!
Yipie i-oh, yipie i-ay! Goat herd in the sky!
Rabitski tore right through the lot, his eyes void of regret.
He tagged a Messershmitty, and the pilot’s panties wet!
But five more hounds jumped on him, and the odds were just too high,
Rabitski’s ride was riddled through, his luck was running dry.
Yipie i-oh, yipie i-ay! Goat riders in the sky
He didn’t come back home that day, six months or more went by.
Some said he joined another squad, some said that was a lie,
but then one day, back in the bar, appeared our ol’ squad mate,
I guess he’d stopped to get more beer, that’s why he’s runnin’ late!
Yipie i-oh, yipie i-ay!
Welcome back our wayward son,
* a Cincinnati brewery