The tale of a bomb
What in nineteen hundred and eighty eight
took place in the village, I 'll relate:
nobody could have it foretold
yet it came to pass, I swear to God!
Drinking one evening in the month of May
were Uwe and Mario, in their quiet way,
in the Railway pub, their pints of beer.
A Soviet soldier did then appear:
"Comrade, Tovarich, listen and mark.
I haf a very big firework.
You haf money for vodka and beer.
Let 's make exchange for the firework here."
Thinks Uwe: " Till New Year I know,
there are about three terms to go.
Why not light a firework this very minute?
Surely there 'd be great approval for it."
Before the inn, " I 'm all for it", he said,
and the threesome quickly made a trade.
The explosive is now in their hands;
it 's going to be lit as soon as they can.
Across the way are a fence and a post,
whereon the thing 's hung extremely fast.
The fuse runs to the railway line,
the battery 's fixed - everything is fine.
But all at once, there is, my dear Jack,
an almighty, a tremendous crack!
Windows at Helmchens and the mayor's worst,
out of their plaster frames they burst.
Behind the new housing many TV's
stun their viewers and implode, you see.
The fireworkers come off worst,
they fly away while they rave and curse.
They end up injured and with tattered clothing
seven metres from their point of starting.
Uwe wants off home to race,
in the mirror he no longer knows his face.
His circulation is broken down,
he wakes up later in a hospital gown.
Already the Stasi sit by his bed.
"We 're not amused by this", they said.
Western Security ´s suspected,
until a Russian is connected:
a Soviet soldier in uniform.
Extreme care now becomes the norm.
The Russians are not to be provoked.
What 's to do? Treat it all as a joke!
Uwe, old boy, that's let you off!
A dram to it of vodka Gorbachov!
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)