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funny poem

wie ich sollen Sie, helfen Sie rechts der Welt, die falsch geht
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
sie sprengte fierce Wein

 



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