Das hat kein Goethe g’shrieben,
das hat kein Schiller g’dicht...
Ah, the absurdities of the manifest dream,
said Herb as he laid another brick. Pike
& Smithe were building another building
in the east quarter of old Buckeye near
Cleve. Herb was chatting with Lem, you
know when Goethe found that split skull of
that sheep? Lem nodded. H continued,
right there on the Lido he conjured up
the vertebral theory. You know that age
is no defense against folly. Lem said,
that’s why we bricklayers gotta retire
early. You know, before the insanity of
age makes us chuck bricks at our master.
I learned from Goethe that I don’t wanna
be an absurd boss who keeps pushing at
a dream that really ain’t there no more.
S. Freud walked up to the two men, and
wagged his tail, and said, once I called
my boss schafkopf, a silly ass, to his
face. Fired me; thought I was going nuts.
*This was written by no Goethe, this was
composed by no Schiller...; from a German pop song of 1940
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