This forum needs more poetry...

[AndyJWest]

...here's one I wrote some time ago: 

 

Little Willy Messerschmitt

 

Little Willy Messerschmitt,

had a plan, and worked on it.

 

Made a sketch,

then thought a bit.

 

Thought some more,

and rubbed his jaw.

 

Thought again,

then off he tore.

 

"Paper, pencils!" (sharpened fine...)

"I must start my new design".

 

"Needs a number...

One oh nine!"

 

 

Little Willy Messerschmitt,

set his men to building it.

 

Skinny wings

and tight cockpit.

 

Scrounged an engine -

from Rolls-Royce!

 

"T'will do for now,

but not first choice!"

 

"JUnkers Jumo, Daimler Benz -

best to get them from your friends!"

 

'Till prototype was looking fine,

'was the Bee eff One oh nine.

 

 

 

Little Willy smiled with glee -

Herman Goering came to see!

 

Herman stood all smug and beaming,

looking at the plane all gleaming.

 

Herman peeked below the wings,

kicked the wheels, and suchlike things.

 

Herman went to phone the Feurher

"Praise and medals, nothing surer!"

 

Soon came Furher, in Mercedes

along the streets all lined with ladies,

 

throwing roses, singing praises, 

(Goebbels was providing wages...)

 

"Come on Herman get inside,

take the fighter for a ride".

 

Herman could have looked much surer

but came the order from the Furher...

 

Herman huffed and puffed and panted

and up upon the wing he mounted

 

Up he went into cockpit

struggled, wriggled just a bit,

 

soon apparent, problem hit,

Herman Goering wouldn't fit!

 

The Furher cracked a rare sly grin,

Herman stuck - half out, half in!

 

Little Willy thought a bit,

how Herman from the tight cockpit,

 

could be induced to make his exit,

with dignity, so he can't wreck it.

 

Dignity was though soon forgotten

Herman then in lard was sodden

 

Soap and oil was all applied,

'till from the cockpit he did slide.

 

The Furher left in his Mercedes,

Buxom women singing praises

 

Herman left in dressing gown,

-one he'd loaned from Eva Braun.

 

Little Willy Messerschmitt

thought at this and grinned a bit

 

Then his desktop lamp he lit

Chewed his pencil, sharpened it,

 

Herman gone, can't take the credit,

interfere or elsewise wreck it.

 

Little Willy worked away

through dark until Sun's first ray,

 

Worked again all through the night

"Now I've got it looking right"

 

It's my design, and only mine,

My pretty Bee eff One Oh Nine!.

 

 

 

© Andrew West 2013. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[=BKHZ=Furbs]

Loved it!

 

Spit next.

[AndyJWest]

Spitfire? Hmmm, a tricky one... 

[theOden]

ye, make it "Fast Leg Pe-2" instead.

Spit is so..

british.

 

[=BKHZ=Furbs]

Not poetry as such, but still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up...

 

[Feathered_IV]

A war winner! Well done Andy. Give up your day job at once and somebody get Pam Ayres on the phone.

[HeavyCavalrySgt]

Cold wind blows the snow

Pre-order is complete, but

Still I can not fly

[ST_ami7b5]

Not poetry as such, but still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up...

 

...

 

Great!

Edited September 27, 2013 by ami7b5

[saf]

hahaha love it very good Andy

[=LD=Hethwill]

[theOden]

hahaha Hethwill - thanks for my first friday laugh.

[VA_NAVY]

Axis is red, allies are blue

release the alpha already

for so many of us are blue!

[ST_ami7b5]

[J2_Trupobaw]

Good one! I've read somewhere (not sure if true) that after Germans took Holand, Hermann had a special late-production Fokker D.VII made for himself and they had to enlarge the cockpit for him to fit .

Spit is overhyped already, how about a Hurri poem ?

Edited October 7, 2013 by Trupobaw

[=LD=Hethwill]

just google "ww2 poems" and you will find a lot of interesting things. I liked this one specifically, without any name to claim it, just an anonymous individual.

 

As Flak Goes By

You must remember this
That flak don't always miss
And one of you may die.
The fundamental thing applies
As flak goes by---

And When the fighters come
You hope you're not the one
To tumble from the sky
The odds are always too damned high
As flak goes by---

110's and 210's knocking at your gate
Come on you jokers, come on kill that rate
And should a bomb hang, salvo don't wait
The targets passing by---

It's still the same old story
A tale that's too damned gory
Some brave men have to die
The odds are always high
As flak goes by.

Edited October 8, 2013 by =LD=Hethwill

[ST_ami7b5]

just google "ww2 poems" and you will find a lot of interesting things. I liked this one specifically, without any name to claim it, just an anonymous individual.

 

As Flak Goes By

You must remember this

That flak don't always miss

And one of you may die.

The fundamental thing applies

As flak goes by---

 

And When the fighters come

You hope you're not the one

To tumble from the sky

The odds are always too damned high

As flak goes by---

 

110's and 210's knocking at your gate

Come on you jokers, come on kill that rate

And should a bomb hang, salvo don't wait

The targets passing by---

 

It's still the same old story

A tale that's too damned gory

Some brave men have to die

The odds are always high

As flak goes by.

 

Wow,

 

this is the original song: 

 

 

Edited October 8, 2013 by ami7b5

[AndyJWest]

Re flak:

 

'The Gotha'

 

And as I flew above the lines

upon my growling Gotha

 

The guns below all opened up

and blew my tail off. Bother...

 

(And before anyone says, I know that 'Gotha' doesn't rhyme with 'bother'. This is poet's license: mine has only two endorsements...  )

Edited October 8, 2013 by AndyJWest

[=LD=Hethwill]

Godsend brandy moment there ami. Damn...

[ST_ami7b5]

Godsend brandy moment there ami. Damn...

 

Well, thanks for bringing it up, Heth.

 

'As Time Goes By' is a standard well know to every jazz musician.

So I immediatelly recognized the origin of that 'modified' poem...

[=BKHZ=Furbs]

I always found this to be quite moving...

 

 

LIE IN THE DARK AND LISTEN
by
Noel Coward

Lie in the dark and listen,
It's clear tonight so they're flying high
Hundreds of them, thousands perhaps,
Riding the icy, moonlight sky.
Men, materials, bombs and maps
Altimeters and guns and charts
Coffee, sandwiches, fleece-lined boots
Bones and muscles and minds and hearts
English saplings with English roots
Deep in the earth they've left below
Lie in the dark and let them go
Lie in the dark and listen.
Lie in the dark and listen

They're going over in waves and waves
High above villages, hills and streams
Country churches and little graves
And little citizen's worried dreams.
Very soon they'll have reached the sea
And far below them will lie the bays
And coves and sands where they used to be
Taken for summer holidays.
Lie in the dark and let them go
Lie in the dark and listen.

Lie in the dark and listen
City magnates and steel contractors,
Factory workers and politicians
Soft hysterical little actors Ballet dancers,
'reserved' musicians,
Safe in your warm civilian beds
Count your profits and count your sheep
Life is flying above your heads
Just turn over and try to sleep.
Lie in the dark and let them go
Theirs is a world you'll never know
Lie in the dark and listen.

[Feathered_IV]

Stout lads. *sniff* good one Furbs.