Courier Run - West Berlin

A VW Beetle An unloaded thirty eight In the passenger seat And out through the gate A briefcase of secrets Chained to the wrist Memorized instructions From an unwritten list. In the event of an ambush Just pop five rounds in: The only trouble was They were sealed in a tin. We weren't even sure The rounds were live anymore The tin was dated Nineteen Fourty Four These were the days Before mobile phone Just the courier and driver Out on their own. I suppose in a way It was a bit of fun Time out of the office When you did the Courier Run It never happened of course. And we delivered to the Yanks Who took our case Without any thanks. They treated us With such disrespect You’d think they’d decided They’d be fighting us next.” Briefcase of new secrets Chained to the wrist, Memorised directions From that unwritten list. A VW Beetle, Unloaded Thirty eight In the passenger seat And back out of the gate.