While we hid under our stairs from the bombs every night,
The evacuee, a woman, refused and sat tight,
On our landing, moaning and crying from sheer fright.

Saturday was the day of queues and ration books,
Standing in a windswept lane for hours, and meat off hooks.
Outside shops for bananas, veg, and dirty looks.

Doubling up for more, in queues, behind each other.
"You've been here before!  Or was it your brother?
If you have, I'll find out and speak to your mother!"

Even rations became scarce, we put jam in our tea,
And spam, spam, spam tasted like cardboard to me,
But fish was plentiful, our kitchen smelled like the sea.

Newspapers had plenty of sad news that easily sold,
Lord Haw Haw regularly spewed out his apostasy bold.
Our teacher was an objector, conscientious we were told.

In the cinema our spirits were lifted, watching celluloid stars,
We played street games with friends until the twilight hours,
There was full employment, and men filled the public bars.

Yanks came over in droves, with gum, booze and fags,
With flash uniforms, entertaining our women with gags,
"Have you got a sister?" was their chat up line for slags.

Victory in Europe and Japan were celebrated in every street,
When the atom bombs forced the Japanese to retreat.
Britain's survivors came home, hoping it would never repeat.

Coventry and Dresden were both shelled flat.
37,000,000 died in vain, so what was the purpose of that?
One country desperately lean, tried to plunder others of fat.
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