Irving McDrane can fly a plane;
He flies it up and down again.
He flies by night, he flies by day,
Upside down or up the right way.
He loops the loop and barrel rolls,
Through the air he twists and scrolls,
Across the sky with great panache …
Look out, Irving — you’re going to crash!
Irving McDrane can’t fly a plane;
Now he goes everywhere by train.