WINGING HOME ( Words and music by Paul F. Cowlan)

Sadly, this story is absolutely true.

This Iranian bloke, with a brother over here, was applying for asylum.
He said he couldn't go back 'cos he was on their blacklist,
and they wanted to try him.
His biggest fear was that he'd simply disappear, and he made it sound quite gory.
But that's what they all say. Anyway, that was his story.

He said, "I can't go home. They'll never leave me alone
because they think I'm a dissident.
Even here in the West they won't let it rest. They're very persistent."
Well, I gotta admit it was true, that bit about their secret service.
They followed him about, checking him out, and of course that made him nervous.

Still, it was all going through, as far as he knew. All the dots connected.
Till we got a call saying, after all his case had been rejected.
Now our brief was, 'Don't hesitate. It'll be too late if you lose him.'
So we made our plans right there and then, and got things moving.

Then we give him a ring. "Just a couple of things. Nothing to worry about.
It's just routine. Come in at 2.15 and we'll get it sorted out."
He never thought twice. Polite young feller. Come in nice and early.
Then the boys from The Force grabbed him of course. Security, big and burly.

We said, "Sorry, slight change of plan. You're on the next plane to Tehran.
No, you can't make a call. Stay calm. It's all been done and dusted.
Silly bugger freaked out and started struggling about. Nearly got his head busted.

Well, we got him to the airport in double quick time. Still in the best of health.
Then, locked in the loo, what does he do? He only tries to top himself!
I shouted, "Jesus Christ! What's all the fuss? They're a democratic regime!"
We patched him up, got him onto the bus, and into the machine.

The doctor said, "This man can't fly!" "Oh, yes he can." was my reply.
"I'll take responsibility. So don't try that one on with me."
Of course, some daft woman on the airport staff let him use her mobile phone.
Well, there's always one! But we got it done, and sent him winging home.

That's it then. Nothing further to report. I wouldn't give it a thought if I were you.
We just did what we had to do. And if you'd been me, you'd have done it too.
They won't lay a finger on him in the end, after all that puffing and blowing.
And, even if they do, what's that to you? You didn't know him.