DOODLEBUGS

My mother worked her socks off once in London town,
Back in Nineteen-Forty-Four when the Doodlebugs came down.
It was old Adolf’s master plan to bring us to our knees,
But Londoners said. ’Not a chance. Till hell itself do freeze.’

But Doodlebugs were awful smart, and very hard to beat.
Too high for anti-aircraft guns at near four thousand feet.
But the brave lads of the RAF so valiantly did try,
To fly along and tip ‘em up and knock ‘em from the sky.

Now every day me mother went to work by omnibus,
Despite the devastation carried on without much fuss.
Till one gloomy afternoon they heard an awful sound,
And knew that when the noise did cease,
a buzz-bomb would fall down.

No time to run, no time to hide and barely time to pray.
In the silence that befell me mother’s street that day.
Her heart it did stop beating along with all her friends,
Would they live another day or meet an horrible end.

The Doodlebug came crashing down and smashed the neighbourhood,
All windows they were broken as every building shook.
But lucky for my mother it landed in the next street,
For it was not her time right now, the angels for to meet.

Now later in that year was born a handsome little chap,
As mother managed to survive her Nazi bomb attack.
And as we all know very well old Hitler he did fail,
But I grew up to be a man to tell this Doodlebug tale.