In 1981 in Germany was I
On a train to Frankfurt
Across from a man I did spy
He was an old man of German sort
That saw my English face
And then he did retort “Englisch”
He saw on my face every English trace
And with hatred did make his demand
I could tell by his eyes
It was no surprise that his loyalty
Lay with Herr ******, Der Furhrer
Uncomfortably I sat, a thought I begat
That this man might take things a bit further
But then I did know that he was too old
And the war was for him not quite over
So I sat in my seat, tried looking bold
Into the hauptbanhof did we pull
The Old German did exit the host
He forgot that his dear leader was null
I sat in my seat with teenaged wonder
And remembered we’d torn them asunder
As I’ve aged like a man
Every chance that I can
I remember the English thunder