Jabs Under Water

Every week, the OWC brings
So many underwater jabs,
just like from a ship’s kobold,
What I write, what I sing
Is audible only in a small circle
And invisible to … Rauter.

Whether it’s Goebbels‘ commenting,
Or Anton Mussert shivering and trembling,
Friend Adolf’s latest howler,
And whether he soon bites the dust,
In the OWC, it‘s said
With jabs under water.

Although I’m underwater,
I’m far from being in … the pit
And I don’t let my head hang,
I look full of courage and hope
With excitement through my periscope,
And then I sing my songs.

Sometimes I feel like a mouse,
I stay as quiet as a mouse in the house
For the Gestapo cat,
But even if I remain so quiet,
I still say what I want to say
With jabs under water.

I chose time as the subject,
My songs are pointed and sharp
Just like needles poking,
A time like this offers plenty of material,
If I were obedient to the Kraut,
I would swallow everything.

But the present makes me aggressive,
And forces me into an offensive,
Time doesn’t let me sleep,
And unarmed as I am,
I bravely grabbed … my pen,
The pen became my weapon.

My pen is sharp and I sting accurately,
What I write is sometimes my revenge
For what they did to me.
I walk on the warpath,
And sometimes I think: That jab hit the mark,
And then I am satisfied.

So I use my pen as a lance,
And dance a war dance,
And sometimes make strange leaps,
And ANP and DNB,
They involuntarily collaborate,
Compelled by me.

I fight on the underwater front,
And distribute pamphlets, all around,
And hope that sooner or later
The misery of war will budge,
Because then I, Cor Breedenbeek, will stick
My head out of water again.