I once looked up “ballad” and discovered how wide a category it was. That led to this, a ballad about Trouser Pilot, the mythical character who, when you are flying by the seat of your pants, is right there, ready to jump in and steer when you need him to. It’s darn silly and sort of fun, but it’s nice to think of Trouser Pilot when you’ve left something terribly late or haven’t prepared yourself at all for whatever it is you have to do.

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PART SIX: THE BALLAD OF TROUSER PILOT, THE IDIOTS’ SAVIOUR

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CHORUS:

Trouser Pilot

Over dust and dune and cliff and sea

By the sat of your pants you soar beneath

The starry skies of indigo and violet

Trouser Pilot

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Born to fly and ne’r to run

Was his call when his task begun

Ask any soul who walks the streets

They’ll tell you of his bravest feats

CHORUS

Son of the sky and the howling wind

Uncertainty his closest friend

Sees no farther than his next meal

But flies ahead with vigor and zeal

CHORUS

When to preparation you pay no mind

The Trouser Pilot’s close behind

Crouched nearby in a fighting stance

Ever ready to fly your pants

CHORUS

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Please feel free to drop me a review! I’d ask for constructive criticism, but this was all in fun. However, if you feel the need, go right ahead.