Sidney Nurse, that’s his name Not his town, not his game, Handles luggage you reclaim When you present a check of claim. Works the tarmac with a crew For an airline, old Jet Blue; Served a flight that well he knew, At JFK from where it flew. New York to Boston it was bound, When in the hold he up and wound. The door then closed, secure and sound He crawled through bags around and ‘round. Sidney Nurse now out of sight, Taxied ready then for flight. In the dark Nurse crouched in fright, The jet took off into the night. Hoped not the maker he would meet When flying one of Jet Blue’s fleet; It’s cold at thirty-thousand feet, Should have picked a window seat.