Like a terrier
spitting fire
at the German Shepherd.
'He'll get the Fokker,
chasing as a Hurricane,
not to miss
that Messerschmidt,
just hound it,
get that tail,
it'll wag no more
when we hit that pack
it'll run,
tail 'tween legs
for mercy ity begs.
Fed
with lead.'
No fun,
that dogfight in the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tally Ho old chap.Chocks away.Cought Jerry on a fizzer but pranged the kite.Toot toot old fruit Pity the Focke Wulf lost its howl......Chin chin and bottoms up for Christmas......