BUCK
Arnold has made his dash for the clear
Away from the brush,Stalag a sneer.
Ploughing the snow branches whipping bow
It's now the wild,the Luftwaffe howl they know!
Running as squat a kiwi tucked his wings
Christensen fearing,over lands the coldness clings.
The Gestapo hunting in row disfavour;malice near gleaning no savour.
Tiresome his way lines Danish the border
Our capture as four,tautly no quarter.
Catanach,Espelid,Fugel song friends;pointing now a turning bend
Rotenhahn fielding final our fanning end.
I can vision my land,passing southern so pure!
Feelings of doom sadly our sure
Oh God deliver us,your eternal light a cure.

Copyright:N.J.Deller 29/10/16 "73 years foreshortened our stance
remembered the airmen boldly advance."