(Sung to the tune of “Popcorn Popping On The Apricot Tree”)
I looked up from my deck and what did I see?/
A B-17 flying straight over me!/
Oshkosh airshow’s brought a nice surprise:/
A World War Two bomber in the skies./
I could take a picture; it’d be a treat./
But my memory is just as sweet./
It was really so!/
Right above me!
A B-17 o’er Lake Winneconne.
Whilst I dwelled
in her land of nativity,
she, from far away,
unleashed a bomb on me.
It was, as often is
in times of peace,
completely unexpected,
and the power it unleashed
flowed out and washed over
grey matter, heart and soul too,
and the feelings it uncovered
brought moistening eyes to view.
And then, like the sound of one escaping bomber plane,
she fell silent, and her words were not heard again.
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 
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