You ask would I join your strange cult;
I consider that sir, an insult.
And why would you ask it?
Come – climb in this basket.
(I’m testing my new catapult)
Things are out of control in Deutschland,
Where the flames of destruction are fanned
By the recent invaders –
Those Middle East raiders
Will plunder and ravage the land.
Those long remembered scented nights
Beneath the glow of Kranji’s lights,
Beside the pool, where once had danced
The girls the boys had once romanced.
The place still had the magic then,
And I’d imagine Maugham with pen
In that white house across the straits
As he wrote tales of men – their fates,
As sun, slow sinking, set the scene
On old Malaya warm and green,
And vanished slow, the grand old ways
As Empire lived its twilight days.