In May of 1941, the war had just begun,
The Germans had the biggest ships with all the biggest guns,
The Bismarck was the biggest ship that ever sailed the seas,

With its shells as big as (something or other) and its guns as big as trees.
    Unbelievably, this ditty topped the hit parades in 1960, although I don’t remember them using it in the film Sink the Bismarck which it promoted. It was a rather sturdy but pedestrian account of the mighty clash of giant warships, based on Hunting the Bismarck by C. S. Forester, whose sea-faring yarns were frequently filmed. He wrote the Hornblower series, which somehow I never got into and also The Gun which was filmed as The Pride and the Passion but he seemed to be at his best when destroying German warships. Brown on Resolution and Sink the Bismarck are fine pieces but he topped them both with a little book that became one of the greatest films of all time.

But I was doing him no harm and I knew it. This was as I planned—I had no intention of hurting him in any way. My desire was to subdue him. Soon I began to tire from flailing blows upon him, but the sheer volume of my assault was having its effects, he was staggering and exhausted himself, his breath rasping as he sobbed in desperation.
    It might have gone on indefinitely like this, but I knew I was tiring—because I was doing all the work and expending all the energy—and I needed to change the pattern. So I grabbed him by the wrists and dragged his defence apart, but as soon as I let go to hit him, the arms shot back to their protective position. Exasperated, I tripped him up and hurled him on the ground, sat on him and continued to pound away—at least the change of angle briefly offered my fists and arms renewed strength.
    “Had enough?” I asked, after he had not moved for a while. He did not respond. I got off him. He got up slowly, his face red with exertion, and immediately snapped back into his defensive position.
    I’d had enough of this. I rushed him, thrust my arm between his defence and his face, and got him in a fierce headlock. I dragged him to the ground, screaming in pain and flailing the air hopelessly. I put my knee into his spine, intensifying the pressure and he was crying out piteously.
“Had enough?” I roared at him.
“Yes,” he murmured.
I let him go, and he fell to a pathetic heap at my feet.