In the belly's a drum made of steel
Spinning a million revs by the feel
We'll fly low, and he'll drop
With a hippety-hop
And a bang to make Miss Möhne reel

The fortification outside
Is constructed thick, long and wide
But all this, my dear general
May be rendered ephemeral
If the Germans just go round the side

The roof has just let out a groan
There's grim silence when I lift the phone
Wind's howlin' it's snowin'
Rain gauge's overflowin'
TV's dark. I'll get out my trombone