Rodders looked like Buddy Holly
Though maybe not quite so tall;
Yet from a different angle
Didn't look like buddy at all.
He was all face and glasses
With whiter than white skin,
And he wandered through our world
With a permanent crooked grin.
Some said that he was lost.
Nearly always on his own.
Even the worst of the Ruperts
Left old Rodders well alone.
They made him the postman
But he was always always late.
You never knew just when
He'd roll back through the gate.
A Jock Major up in Gatow
Was addressing the floor,
Him and the sergeant major
When Rodders came in the door;
They swore he didn't see them
He didn't salute, or say a word,
Just carried on his reading,
A bit harassed and perturbed.
In the usual Rodders style;
As they weren't in his way
Walked to the Majors desk
To stub his fag in the ash tray.
They waited ‘til he'd left,
Made sure he was gone,
Then as it was only Rodders,
The talking carried on.
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