Last Flight of a Vickers Gun Bus Pilot
Arthur’s knights took horse and squire to slay
their foes. I ride a bloody kite; a silly
boy up front to man my gun. The sly
Boche fly Eindeckers today. This slow
F.B.9 can’t pace them as they slue
from side to side, shooting our wings to lace.
And now my gunner’s tendered up his lease
on life. I’d land, but Jerry’s thick as lice
below. A passing Hun laughs, “Vas ist los?”
arcs back, and turns his twin-mount Spandaus loose.
(originally published in Verse Wisconsin 104)