I met my baby in the GDR
She had a hammer and a sickle and a red guitar.
She played Actually Existing Rock ‘n’ Roll,
That sweet little comrade stole my soul.
She taught me Marx and the twelve-bar blues,
And how Lenin was a riff that the class could use.
She was the cutest little tankie that I ever did see
Got me dreamin’ ‘bout shooting the bourgeoisie.
She had a brother in the Stasi; that cat was cold,
Aint no one knew him ever grew old.
He told my baby we gotta go our separate ways,
But then the wall came down and he cried for days.
Now here we all are in the capitalist West,
All very democratic but we don’t feel blessed.
Yeah, now we’re free to have no job,
And free to run from the right-wing mob.
It wasn’t ever heaven; I’d never go that far,
But it wasn’t all bad in the GDR.
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Harry Paterson 