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Flying low, watch them goAn inch above the ground
Skimming o’er the water too
With no wake to be found

On the wings of air they glide
O’er ice and sand and snow
Not a wheel to touch the ground
To drag or make them slow

Upstream, downstream, across the tide
They go with equal ease
And the ones who pilot them
Go just where they please

From land to sea and back again
No need for piers or docks
A vessel of pure fantasy
Is it not a paradox?

No indeed, they are very real
Vessels fit for kings
But kings alone cannot keep
This wondrous machine

Ordinary men with many skills
With common materials craft
This magic gliding wonder
They called a hovercraft