There with the dead now made his bed

The sunrise he would tread

Preferred his darkness now instead

With song and glory he was imbued

Yet for piece of mind he sued

Just to lay there so unglued

This plot of earth his sole domain

It could not swallow all his pain

That deep ingrained would still remain

If not so stiff and so confined

His body differently aligned

His stature have defined

Four stars on each label

Withering all to hell

His boots now full of jell

A tight-lipped mouth that lies and stories spun

Concealed now from the sun

And how it all begun

Blood and guts that was his story

The flag and country that his glory

True blue he was, just like a Tory

That’s what they asked him at the gate

What stripe of colour he abate

If he called a spate a spate

And so he said, mein Fuehrer I did follow

Never ask his truth be hollow

Right until the final gallow

Persuade my enemies my steps do dance

By it nether land or France

My agenda to advance

If colours and leaders, you defined

To follow them were so inclined

Mine you have declined