The The Trip to Europe
A human flew to Germany
Because he wanted there to see
In Munich the Octoberfest.
Therefor he thought it best
To buy a book of German phrases
He might be needing in some cases.
In Frankfurt, when he left the plane
He hurried off to catch his train.
He hailed a taxi, full of expectation,
To take him to the railway station,
And there, arriving at the gate,
He found, he had three hours wait.
He read his book, the time it flew,
Till suddenly the clock struck two.
He raced to platform number seven
But overshot, turned in at gate eleven
Where there a train was just about
To leave the station, pull on out.
He huffed, he puffed, his legs felt sore,
He barely made it through the door.
Thank God, he said, my lucky day,
Just as the train went on its way.
And as the train was speeding west
He settled in the corner for some rest
Where sleepily his eyes fell closed,
And sev'ral hours there he dozed
Until he was awaken from his nap
By a conductor with a crimson cap.
Not one word there he understood.
His book, it wouldn't do him any good,
It lay forgotten on the waiting bench -
At any rate, in Paris they speak French.