A VW Beetle
An unloaded Thirty-eight
In the passenger set
And out through the gate
A briefcase of secrets
Chained to the wrist
Memorized instructions
From an unwritten list.
In the event of being stopped
Just pop five rounds in:
The only trouble was
They were sealed in a tin.
We weren't even sure
They were live anymore
The date on the tin was
Nineteen-fourty-four.
Those were were the days
Before the mobile phone
Just the courier and driver
Out there on our 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.
Back In the Beetle,
Unloaded thirty-eight
In the passenger seat
And back out of the gate.
