- Contributed by听
- CSV Solent
- People in story:听
- Dan Symons and 'Chut'
- Location of story:听
- Hythe
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A4186424
- Contributed on:听
- 13 June 2005
This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Richard Jackson on behalf of Dan Symons' sister and has been added to the site with her permission. Miss Symons fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.
This is a poem written by my brother on the occasion of my birthday in 1941. At that time we were living in Hythe.
I wish to explain my nickname, Chut. Until it became like gold dust, I had a great penchant for Pickled Chutney. I was also a bit of a pickle!
A year ago, A year today,
The nasty Nazi's came our way,
They thought they'd bomb
Our Chutty's cake,
But soon found out
Their sad mistake.
Our Brylcreem Boys,
They kept on scoring,
A slap in the face for
Old Fatty Goering.
They thrashed them good,
And all because
they didn't say,
Good luck to our Chut,
On her birthday.
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