I must to up to the skies again, to the white clouds and the grey,
And all I ask is a high launch, and the chance to 'get away';
And the wing's surge, and the wind's song, and the quiet clouds' drifting,
And a heat-haze on the land's face, and the warm air's lifting
I must go up to the skies again, for the call to soar and glide,
Is a free call, and a clear call, that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a sunlit day, and the bright height's gaining,
'Neath the 'new-cu' that towers above, and it's lift maintaining
I must go up to the skies again, to the peace of silent flight,
To the gull's way, and the hawk's way, and the free wings' delight;
And all I ask is a friendly joke with a laughing fellow rover,
And a large beer, and a deep sleep, when the long flight's over.
— Robbie, RAE Gliding Club, 'Sailplane Gliding' magazine.
The blue skies is your home now.
May you rest in peace.