There once was a pilot named Oltman, Shepley his mate on the flight plan; The airline they flew, Hawaii Go Blue, Essentially wings on a tin can. Flying commuters they daily Flew customers giddy and gaily Island hop-scotching, The passengers watching, While listening to strummed ukuleles. Three quarters an hour the flights are, No movie, no lunch and no wet bar. Just a quick up and down, They fly town to town, Guided by radar and North Stars. But yesterday’s flight like no other, Controllers would shortly discover; When it came time to land The plane as was planned, The airplane continued to hover. The radio calls to the plane crew Unanswered they were as the plane flew; Too many minutes Controllers would fidget, Determining what they could do. Another plane hung in the skyway, Traveling the aerial highway, Was dispatched to see What it was that could be Keeping the flight in the flyway. Overshooting the landing by miles, The worry turned soon into smiles. The pilot and mate, Though responding quite late, Had fallen asleep at the dials. A comforting thought while proceeding On airplanes while napping or reading, That the men who are charged With your safety at-large, From consciousness may be receding.