Does anyone know the origin of this poem sounds to me like another squadron taking the mickey out of the 102
Fle Fle Oh Driffield
You didn't have to tell us
Honours lie soundly on our heads
You must be frightfully jealous
But then you came in rather late
Still it must be galling
To have your thunder stolen away
We sympathise - it's appalling
Rumours reach us of your navigation
Spread by that lying jade
Of your ''Drivers'' hitting the wrong constellation,
Over Hunland - where a landing was made
And there are tales of indiscriminate bombing
On mackerel in the great North Sea
But we are nice and accept all these stories
With a large pinch of S.Y.L.T.
But were BIG and we wish you the best of luck
And when your next job is'' on''
Remember we'll always help you out
Lots of love 10 and 51