The local hero, a war criminal,
but oh so dashing with that hat and plume
all the maidens wanted to have a dance.
The enemy had numbers but while they slept
he and his men rode the scenic byways
to take them in ambush with fierce elan.
Captives if fortunate went to death camps
where at least they had a chance. Others
knelt patiently for the final bullet,
the sound of their comrade’s exploding skulls
leaving them anxious for this last mercy.
But oh how his boots shone and his smile beamed
as the boys looted the corpses’ pockets
of clasp knives and watches and ambrotypes
of maidens at home awaiting their beaux.