"The captain spoke of stars and barsOf far-off places like maybe MarsBut the slipsticks slip on this ship of ours—And we'll get where I wasn't going!"
"The captain spoke of stars and barsOf far-off places like maybe MarsBut the slipsticks slip on this ship of ours—And we'll get where I wasn't going!"
Mike looked over at Millie as she drank her coffee, a slender, dark figure—able with a soldering iron; able as a defending panther; able as a spaceman's mate. He was glad the captain of the ship was a proper marrying officer, for he had an idea the feeling he felt was mutual, as he joined with the crew in the chorus:
"There's a sky-trail leading from here to thereAnd another yonder showing—But when we get to the end of the runIt'll be where I wasn't going...."
"There's a sky-trail leading from here to thereAnd another yonder showing—But when we get to the end of the runIt'll be where I wasn't going...."