The Bomber Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

They were secretly handing out 'ones'
and those 'ones' were like bullets from guns.
Said smart lip wet with spittle
'oh, those bother me little',
but Ulrike and I, we are Huns.

We are, never, with idiots at ease.
And would like them to swing in the breeze,
when you hide in the dark
like a dog without bark
you are nothing but vermin with fleas.

There was plenty of clever advice:
'Just ignore them and do not entice,
so sit back and relax,
let these feeble attacks
make you smile and then pay the small price.'

Let me tell you the truth though, to wit.
I will never stand still to be hit.
If the king of the castle
will not deal with this hassle
then his drawbridge is covered with shit.