Jitterbug Blitzkrieg

Swing kids dance while bombers soar,
Lindy hopping through the raids,
Jazz beats drown the cannon’s roar,
As Europe’s light fast fades.

Zoot suits flash like lightning strikes,
Through dance halls draped in black,
While jackboots march and Stukas dive,
The jive keeps pushing back.

Saxophones wail air raid songs,
As dancers spin through fear,
Their rebellion right or wrong,
While thunder draws so near.

Quick-step past the rubble piles,
Swing out between the flames,
Dance away the crooked miles,
Of horror’s midnight games.

Hot jazz burns through Nazi nights,
Like tracer bullets bright,
While youth defies the searchlight’s bite
With rhythm’s pure delight.

They cut the rug with razor’s edge,
These children of the storm,
Who dare to dance upon the ledge
Of glory’s uniform.

Tap shoes click like machine gun fire,
Against the ballroom floor,
While outside, cities burning higher,
Can’t make them dance no more.

This generation’s last hurrah,
Before the darkness falls,
Their revolution’s quick guitar,
Through smoke-filled dancing halls.

So swing it, children, while you can,
Let freedom move your feet,
Tomorrow’s goose-step caravan,
Won’t stop this final beat.

For in this jitterbug blitzkrieg,
Where youth and war collide,
The dance becomes a fierce intrigue,
Where hope and fear reside.