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 The
following tribute was written for long-time 4449 crew member, the
venerable Pat Tracy, on the occasion of his 50th birthday. With
apologies to Jimmy Dean's "Big Bad John", here is Sarge's version.
(Happy 50th, Pat!)
Old Bald Sarge
Ev'ry morning at the roundhouse you'd see him roll in
He stood six foot-o, wearin' boots and a grin
Kinda broad at the shoulder with a skinny little ass
But everybody knew ya didn't give no gas to Old Sarge
Old Sarge, Old Sarge, Old Bald Sarge...
Nobody remembered when Sarge started there
He just drifted in, back when he still had hair
He didn't say much, kinda quiet and mild
And if you spoke at all, he usually just smiled, Old Sarge
Somebody said he'd worked on F-15's
And even spent time with that Baldwin machine
But on the '49 crew, he showed much incentive
For doin' those jobs that were anally-retentive
Old Sarge, Old Sarge, Old Bald Sarge...
Then came the day, they were steamin' down the road
When McCormack let loose a most gaseous load
The pilot crew started prayin' and hearts beat fast
And everyone thought they'd breathed the last- 'cept Sarge
In the hot rancid fumes of this man-made hell
Rose a clean-cut guy that all the crew knew well
With the air gettin' toxic and firemen droppin' off
Old Sarge took the seat with a gasp and a cough
Old Sarge, Old Sarge, Old Bad Sarge...
Adjusting his glasses, he pulled on his gloves
And opened up the blower with a mighty shove
As the draft started to clear that foul-smelling coop
McCormack just sat there and continued to toot
Then a brakeman yelled out, "There's fresh air on the tender!"
And the whole weary crew scrambled up in surrender
As an odiferous gas belched out of that cab
There was no one left below to try and grab, Old Sarge
Old Sarge, Old Sarge, Old Bald Sarge...
That's why he'll always hold that seat in a pinch
When no one else can take the heat and the stench
Now bald and fifty, with so much wisdom to impart
He's become like McCormack- just another old fart...
Old Bald Sarge
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