Where else but here
How far to go to be near
The evidence is awkward and queer
Though this is where I am my dear
The eight-seater is taking off
Snouts are already in the trough
Nobody’s tested but one has got a cough
It’s not champagne but it does have a froth
Where else but there
The runway to anywhere
A time that is all but exactingly square
Set out early, wear layer upon layer
Edging down the final straight
Fingers crossed we won’t be late
We did not pack, but signed in as freight
All together now: take care of the After-Eight
