Otto Clipzinger was walking down “memory lane”.
He had a childhood recall fixed in his brain.
“I remember when I was five, or was it six?”
“Yes, I recall how we used to get our kicks.”
“For some folk liked to kick us all the time!”
“Whether, or not, they thought us guilty of crime.”
“A swift boot, up the arse, landing us headlong in the grass!”
“A most stressful situation that had come to pass.”
“You’d think folk must have thought us all pests,”
“And they’d be particularly cranky when they had guests.”

It was sixty years ago, Otto was recalling.
Back in Bavaria, and conditions were appalling.
It hadn’t been that long since the war had finished.
Of that, Otto’s recollection was more diminished.
“My daddy was a Grupen fuhrer in the German Army.”
“His stories about it used to drive us barmy!”

Otto, along with his school pal, Fritz,
Used to fly model aeroplanes, they assembled from kits.
And being lively, fun loving boys,
They modified them, to add to their joys.
They built them with enlarged cargo bays,
Which they filled with cow poo to amaze,
Drinkers at the Steinkeller Tavern where,
Otto’s daddy was seldom not there!
As they flew them over the Steinkeller Beer Garden,
It was “Bomb Away”, with no, “I beg your pardon.”
Patrons would stare at the aeroplane angrily,
As they understood what the black bits in the beer might be!
“Sweinhunt! Dumbkopf!” they screamed aloud.
While Otto and Fritz blended in the crowd.

And so it was, in their informative years,
Plenty of mischief in all four gears!
Otto’s best friend was Fritz.
While Fritz liked Otto to bits!