As I walked down by Lewis Lane
To buy a roasting duck
There passed a broken Hurricane
Dismembered on a truck
Her wings lay folded at her side,
a blackened, tattered pall,
And gaping bullet-holes supplied
The context of her fall.
The canvas discs which normally
Screen the eight gun-vents' blast
Were shot away - brave proof that she
Fell firing to the last.
She went, and as I sought my roast
I thanked her for the day
When high above the Kentish coast
She dived into the fray
And quite alone, no friends to see,
fought twenty messerschmitts
Who, having scored but one to three,
Repented of their blitz.
Then sudden, as I stopped and stood,
A roar came deep and strong -
A squadron of her sisterhood
Throating their battlesong.
For further information on the loss of Flt Lt. Owen Chave
