There once were three great aviators,
And each one had a beard.
And they moved and spoke in unison,
Which was unsettling and weird.
They were Italian triplet brothers,
Three pilots, the whole lot.
Though no one had seen them flying
They traveled mainly by yacht.
Perhaps their title was self-ascribed
An elaborate con wherein
The brothers wore only flight suits
And bewhiskered each other’s chins.
Together, they uncovered mummy’s tombs
And defeated Nazis.
Yet they never ask for any reward
Their paychecks totaled squatsi.
They’ll chase the ghosts from your hotel
And blow on your way too hot pie.
In fact, they’ll do you any favor
That does not require them to fly.
They’ve solved riddles that stumped the smartest
Including genius, wiz and nerd.
And they brought down the dreaded Kittyhawk
Part feline and part bird.
Their tales are told across the land
Even in regions nether.
And no one has seen them separately
It’s as if they’re sewn together.
Though they are shrouded in mystery
Like a big, mysterious shroud.
You can rely on those Three Great Aviators
At times when you are most cowed.