The u-boat that cast anchor on the silky beach of Albufeira,
the crew was dressed in German world war two uniforms,
bathers thought they were actors in a movie.
The captain came ashore, he wanted to call Lisbon to his
embassy, only the number didn’t exist anymore. He wanted
to surrender, his crew hungry and tired.
A kind barman gave the captain a cold beer, he drank it
greedily and asked what year this was. 2011.
“My god” he exclaimed, we have landed in a wrong century.
He walked back to his u-boat, a neat man every bit a hero.
The submarine, rusty, looking as it had been at the bottom of
the sea for ages, hoisted anchor, sailed into the blue yonder.
