S
Spammy2505
Guest
I may be paraphrasing Kipling ever so slightly!
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all Officers doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can skive and not be tired by skiving,
Or being lied to by Snecs, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can guess at a fault - and not make random guesses your master;
If you can think - and just make idle thoughts your aim;
If you can mix up Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two Job Cards just the same;
If you can bear to read the handovers you've spoken
Twisted by watch supervisors to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the kit you've spent the night servicing, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your Uckers winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your Legs and Brain and sinew
To serve your OIC long after he has gone,
And carry out the Dailies when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says : 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with Adminers and keep your virtue,
Or walk with AOCs - nor lose the common touch,
If neither PTIs nor loving Chefs can hurt you,
If all airmen count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the Nightshift minute
With sixty seconds' worth of hiding done,
Yours is the Tea Bar and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a TECHNICIAN, my son!
Spamoutstfu
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all Officers doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can skive and not be tired by skiving,
Or being lied to by Snecs, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can guess at a fault - and not make random guesses your master;
If you can think - and just make idle thoughts your aim;
If you can mix up Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two Job Cards just the same;
If you can bear to read the handovers you've spoken
Twisted by watch supervisors to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the kit you've spent the night servicing, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your Uckers winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your Legs and Brain and sinew
To serve your OIC long after he has gone,
And carry out the Dailies when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says : 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with Adminers and keep your virtue,
Or walk with AOCs - nor lose the common touch,
If neither PTIs nor loving Chefs can hurt you,
If all airmen count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the Nightshift minute
With sixty seconds' worth of hiding done,
Yours is the Tea Bar and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a TECHNICIAN, my son!
Spamoutstfu
