Poezja

Where enemy soldiers in tents do lie
in the darkness of night, the early hours
slowly, carefully we scout we sneak by,
pass fences, armed patrols, guard towers
and where they in bliss unaware sleep
during the midnight’s sombre icy chill
we reconnoitre, sabotage and peep
while they lie dreaming under wool and twill
we do apply our very special skills.