The Last of the Bombardiers

Down a lonely road on a cold black night
A miserable beggar trudged into sight
And the people whispered over their beers
"There goes the last of the Bombardiers!"

What is a Bombardier? -- No reply
But men grow silent and women sigh
As a death like silence fills the place
With the gaunt grey ghost of a long lost race

Furtive glances from ceiling to floor
Till someone or something opened the door
The bravest of hearts turned cold with fear
For a thing in the door was a Bombardier!

His hands were bony and his hair was thin
His back was curved like an old bent pin
His eyes were two empty rings of black
And he vaguely mumbled - "Shack Shack Shack"

This ancient relic of the Second World War
Crept across the room and slouched at the bar
And in hollow tones from sunken chest
Demanded a drink, and only the best!

The people said nothing but watched in the glass
As the beggar produced his bombsight pass-
The glass to the lips and they heard him say
"Bomb Bays Open- Bombs Away!"

Then speaking a word, he slouched thru the door
And the last of the bombardiers was seen no more
But sit thru the years that phrase has stuck-
When you say "Bombardier" you add "Hard Luck"