There was a story told in Gatow,
and they'd show you the place,
Then stand and watch the emotions s
lowly cross your face.
It was a second storey window, with below
A steel grilled cellar entry, wide and deep.
You looked and you realised the enormity
Of Ware's spectacular and legendary leap.
He arrived on duty tired and emotional,
(As some journalists used to politely say).
As he leaned against the wall grinning
It was decided he couldn't stay.
They smuggled him back to the billet;
Heard him rant and rave and shout,
Heard the thuds and the crashes
As he threw his things about.
Locked alone, naked, in his room,
Stripped to keep him there,
Heard a thudding as the door
Was battered by a chair;
Then an eerie silence so deep you could nearly cut it through
And the boys stood there silently wondering just what to do.
They waited a few minutes then decided to see
If he'd passed out in his efforts to get free.
As they gathered round his door they heard his voice clear and loud;
Anybody got a bloody light please, came from the back of the crowd
He stood there naked and grinning, unlit fag correctly in place
With not a single bruise or scratch on his body or his face.
They saw his window open wide, saw the very place
A nicotine needing Ware had launched into space.
The grill below was bent, smashed by his desperate fall;
He himself was not marked or hurt in any way at all.
They stood in silent tribute, and then one gave him a light
Before they trooped back to work, off out into the night.
It is many years since we last spoke or met.
I often wonder if he is alive
Smoking and grinning still
Having learned to survive.
They say we have a guardian angel.
It seems one was there
Looking very favourably
On my old mate Ware.