These songs were found among the collection on stencilled sheets.      Perhaps someone may remember the people behind the names and what happened to them.

G. Rintoul Wilson, the organiser of much squadron entertainment and author of at least one of these songs was the storeman and may be seen in the centre of the photograph of ground crew on the FO. Stowers photograph page.     He is wearing a beret.

1.   Sung to the tune of “Lily Marlene”       original sheet

There’s a certain Squadron

Way out in the Blue,

Don’t need anybody

Tell them what to do

Off to Benghazi every night

And when they don’t

They all get tight.

The Boys who bomb Benghazi,

The Boys who bomb B.G.

Wing Commander Simpson

Leads us on our way,

Leads us when we’re working,

Leads us when we play,

Give him a ladle when he’s tight

And four 500s the next night,

He’s off to bomb Benghazi,

He’s off to bomb B.G.

Squadron Leader Thomas

Second in Command

Cannot see the target

Too much - - ! sand

Drops his bombs out in the Blue,

Then tells old Tennant

“So would you”

If you had seen Benghazi,

If you had seen B.G.

F/Lt. Stanbury

Sitting at the stick,

Hear his dear old heart go

Tick – a – Tick  - a-Tick,

Flak all around the kite up here,

But Stan don’t fear

How - - ! near,

He’s over old Benghazi

He’s over old B.G.

Where is M for Mother?

Where is Tommy Farr?

I bet you’ll find him drinking

Pinkers in the Bar,

His kite’s in dispersal – it’s U/S,

Now need you guess

He’s in the Mess,

He’s dodging old Benghazi,

He’s dodging old B.G.

Where is Q for Queenie?

Panter should be here,

He’s somewhere o’er Benina,

Old Blacky sheds a tear.

There is the Mole it’s shining bright

But Panter’s tight,

No bombs tonight,

Will fall on old Benghazi,

Will fall on old B.G.

P/O. Smith is opping

X is on its way,

Presents for old Jerry

Safely stowed away,

They don’t like it, we know that,

But Smithy says it’s “tit for tat”

When over old Benghazi,

When over old B.G.

Hear old Junior moaning

Holy Cow Old Boy,

Don’t go o’er the target Boss,

Let’s just be decoy.

Over the target I’m demoralized

I’m hypnotized,

I’m ostresized. (sic)

When over old Benghazi,

When over old B.G.

See old Sharpy sitting

Drinking “Annie Finns”

Crawling to his tent now,

Falling o’er the bins,

Must get up early, air test to do,

I’m feeling blue,

I’m nearly through,

I seldom reach Benghazi,

I very rarely do.

Wilson and Brodie

Dishing out the booze,

Pinching all the rations

From the flying crews.

Serving very nicely – when we’re here

But when we fly –

They drink our beer,

When we go to Benghazi,

When we go to B.G.

2.  To the tune of  “Drink to me only etc.”   words by G. Rintoul Wilson    

original sheet

Lift up your glasses drink a toast to 70 Squadron now,

For they are flying pioneers and trusty lads I trow,

They braved the sand, the sun, the sea,

They bombed Tobruk to Tripoli

So other Squadrons, raise your glass and honour ‘Seventy’.

When other countries tried to take the honour of our land,

We, in a country far away, have proved a trusty band,

In Vic’s so old, when bombs were gold

We fought against the Hun,

Come, raise your glasses, drink a toast to what old ‘Seventy’s’ done.

Webby, Read and Simpson too

Their share have surely done,

Wood(?)  and Beare and Newman came – and made the Jerry run,     ('Wood' - unclear on original)

They all have played a noble part in making ‘70’s’ name,

Come then, your glasses raise again – They have not worked in vain.

Charge your glasses once again, we toast the Maintenance Flights,

Fly we cannot without aid from those who service kites,

Our lives we place within their hands

Our trust they will not fail

Raise your glasses, drink their health – “The Ground Staff “ will prevail.

Absent friends we won’t forget, the Heroes ‘70’ knew,

Men who gave their very all – they perished in the ‘blue’,

For ‘Seventy’s’ fame they did retain,

And we shall not forget,

Raise your glasses with respect – to “70’s heroes yet”.

So when the day of Victory dawns, and Jerry is no more,

Back to the peaceful life we’ll go and bombing shall be o’er,

And when men meet, their kin to greet,

Each toast may noble be,

But you can give a noble cheer    -   “The Gallant Seventy”.