The German Song. A 3am gift from me to you.

I've been waking at 3am every day for a month or so to take the puppy out for her mid-night business. Somehow appropriate for a dog named Minuit.

Rocket Robin Hood and "Missiles" Maid Marian

Rising from sleep at that hour seems to lock random bits of dream into my conscious, usually in an ever-repeating loop.

Last night's random bit was a ditty I composed many, many years ago for a small university humour publication. And now it's stuck in my head.

Better it be stuck in yours. Here it is in entirety. Sung, for some unfathomable reason, to the chorus from the Rocket Robin Hood theme song.

We are German. We speak German.
We've got bods like Uma Thurman.
We're known around the world for common sense,
For sausages, Mercedes Benz.
From the Baltic to the Danube to the Rhine,
We'll apologize for nineteen thirty nine.
So hoist your beer and raise a cheer for...
Germany! Now! Let's! Eat!

Tomorrow's 3am gift from me to you: one can sing the lyrics of Rule, Britannia! to the tune of Oh! Susanna, and vice versa.