You remind me of the pretty young ladies who used to make Lancaster’s at Avro’s.
They always smiled.
Even though half of their magnificent aeroplanes fell in flames over Germany.
Tens of thousand of men lost.
Many aircrew had sweethearts building the Lancs.
Their smiles died forever when war stole them.
I know you aren't such a lady, are you?
Or are you my dear lady?
We work in a bakery making cakes.
I’d love to see you smile.
Your prettiness would illuminate my night sky
and I’d always safely return home to you my dear lady.
Are you the lady who built my Lancaster?
You’re forever my English rose.
Your beauty will never fade nor your light ever dim.
Let’s go to a real English pub together.
Just us my dear lady.