I am sitting at home, my wife in the kitchen,
Friday is baking day,
although you would not recognise me,
You do know me,
as did your father, almost everyone knows me,
for I am not the ‘Boy from Warsaw‘,

I am however the policeman,
with the motorcycle goggles standing to his left,
not a picture I have been able to dine out on,
in fact for years I denied it was me,
America wanted to make a show
prosecuting perpetrators of actions in the East,

But releasing , using, party members,
Industrialists, for America’s German revival,
secondly I would have to ‘unburden’ to
‘new’ Germans, hands clean Germans,
Germans who knew nothing!
and they are in the majority, now,

Or argue with attack dogs
those now as fanatically anti as they were fanatically pro,
whose hands are now raised not in salute,
but fist clenched in fury at swine like me,
those who had looked forward to a small farm in the East,
once former inhabitants had been asked to leave,

who took delivery
of a blonde, blue eyed polish child
to raise as a good German
And presumably a new German.
A hands clean German
A German who genuinely knew nothing.

From our brave boys,
Ridding the world of our enemies,
Giving us room to breathe
To callous monsters, murdering beasts,
Why no outcry then? Did you think we went armed,
to ask, for your farm, for your adopted son?

No, you did not, You knew exactly what we did,
All of you, basking in reflected Germanic glory,
Shiny eyed with pride watching the newsreels, reading the papers,
Relating the adventures of your Hans, to any neighbour who would listen,
I say again what did you think Hans was engaged in,
a series of long heated discussions with Slavic estate agents,

So beware as you patrol Baghdad’s, dusty, shaded alleyways,
Of enthusiastic champions, change of heart,
Listen; ‘But we didn’t know.’ ‘I didn’t realise.’ ‘How could they do that?’
Listen; ‘They seemed just like us.’ Beyond the pale.’ ‘Heartless monsters.’
The press now as then informed them, how else the victory parades,
Your description now is heroes, you’ll be amazed how fast that will change

So be careful you don’t follow orders, that didn’t wash for us,
And the same handful who gave those orders,
Will slide gracefully into the mist,
As dead, or gone, or useful, and all eyes will turn to you,
At attention, eyes front, an ex heroes pose,
Fog of war will count for nothing, cold logic will now rule.