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Wrighty Bites It Over Blighty.

Day had just begun, tea and sticky bun.
Glum news brung, from mum.
‘Wrighty''Dog Fight', didn't return from.
The Hun had again'stung', oh'that Hun,
He's not dumb, a web he'd spun.
That cunning Hun, unfair he'd become.
Using the sun, blind our chaps then stun.
Firing upon our sons with his Saxon cannon.

'Reminisce'in the'mess'thoughts come,
Us and them, our 'Spit' bloody awesome,
Their 'Messerschmitt'in comparison, rather cumbersome.

It's no fun, makes one sick in the tum,
When one is one the run from the Hun.
Tell you son, coming from the Sun,
Yes trying to shun the scum Hun.
Before one gets undone,
Trying to shoot one in one's bum,
With his big gun.

Bang, one gets one in the rear, bung bung!
End has begun, coming undone.
Tail spun, engine, ‘strange hum',
‘Out to dry', up and strung.
Body numb, dry tongue,
Clenched gum, chest'tight as a drum'.
Dropping like a‘rock bun', and then sum.!

Yes, last song sung, last string strum.
Last cord strung, last note a bum.
That Bavarian bugger had won!
Heading for the'drink' head-on,
'Damn it, where's the Rum'!
Finally succumb, finally done.
Yes'Wrighty'old chum, they got you son.
For you the fight, will carry on.
For you son, I'll take the baton.
By golly, by jove, by gum.
Lip-More will fight for freedom,
Toast your life old boy with a dropp of Rum.

19/06/09

poem by Guy Lipmore
Added by Poetry Lover
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