Russian Sonnet

Once, we cried The Russians are coming!
And slept with Reds inside our beds.
To the tune of Billy Bragg's strumming,
We marched with berets on our heads;
Iconic Che Guevera posters
On kitchen walls, above our toasters
And Chairman Mao's pithy book
On coffee tables, for the look.
Lists of names, come the Revolution;
Like Thatcher, Reagan and the rest
Of those class traitors to the West
Who would face the final solution...
Atom bombs never fell on Slough;
No nuclear winter snow to plough.