On top of Mount Olympus sat, a German and a Finn
by Herbert Nehrlich
there they sampled a delicious malted brew.
Foam and bubbles overflowed and slowly trickled down the chin
of the German, not the Finn. She was a Jew.
They had come here to the mountain to observe a day of pride
for the union that had formed between the lands.
It was time that failed them badly, to the rescue came the tide
of the masses who were eager to shake hands.
Why they would pursue these fellows and their often pretty wives,
it has stomped too many scholars to no end.
Let us celebrate as brothers and sing praises for our lives,
and he kissed the little Jew, she was his friend.
Did we have to climb this mountain to preserve the status quo,
yes, her query was directed at the Kraut,
as they watched the little people, in the valley down below
while the sun rose in the East, without a doubt.