Earhart and Noonan said goodbye
To the crowd and took to the sky
As she worked the flaps
Fred spread out his maps
A long leg of the flight to fly
Their radio worked for a while
The signal fading mile by mile
With a silly grin
Noonan poured more gin
Worrying just wasn't his style
Howland Island loomed to the right
But never did come into sight
For Fred Noonan said
"It lies straight ahead"
And they flew off into the night
They discovered a small atoll
As the aircraft sputtered to stall
They safely landed
Found themselves stranded
No one hearing their distress call
Shortly combers came crashing in
They watched the turn of tide begin
As the isle submerged
Amelia urged
"Fred let's drink the last of the gin"
Amelia succumbed to fate
Chance of success wasn't too great
Now with GPS
Pilots need not guess
That technology came too late
By Richard McCusker (rmrickmack@aol.com)
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