Where I am from

That's Where I'm From

by W. Bledsoe

Rooster crows and church bell rings,

"Grüß Gott"¹ and "Guten Morgen"²

started my days.

Down covers and air dried bed sheets,

mended socks and walking shoes --

that I can never out-run --

were part of my life

Fields of wheat and cabbage patches 

often were destroyed

on many Fußball playing days.

Still, I liked to play.

Kaffeeklatsch⁴ with Apfelstrudel⁵

Sauerkraut⁶ with Pommes Frites⁷

I eagerly devoured.

Plucking weeds and apple pickings

grapevine pruning and

on-your-knees potato diggings,

I learned to abhor.

Das Wandern Ist Des Müllers Lust⁸

 “Zicke Zacke, Hoi, Hoi" ⁹

and

"Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit der Gemütlichkeit,"¹⁰

I loved to recite.

"Onkel¹¹ Fritz und¹² Tante¹³Erna,"

"Heidi und Herr¹⁴ Hirsch,"

and

"Don't come back and say, I didn't tell you so!"

still rings in my ear.

Amsterdam and Paris

London and even Venice,

are not far away,

from the place,

that once was so easy to get away from,

but now,

I'm unable to leave behind.

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