WindWhiner
04.04.2012, 13:54
German-American First Spring Sailing Session
When in spring the tree sap rises,
Hopeful dreams a sailor prizes.
Tossing, turning the night before,
Wondering if a windig day's in store.
Will we on shortboards fastly blast
Or on the wind-gods curses cast?
A bit of caution our plan revises--
Spring breezes often bring surprises.
Surfers pack their trailers, cars and Kombis,
Drawn to wind like hungry zombies.
Those Weihnacht-gifts can now be usen.
Though something else we might have choosen.
Crawling into neoprene
Bits of whitish flesh are seen.
What's blue and white on northern beaches?
Hardy Germans without breeches.
Most are pale as weisse Würste,
A few as brown as hazelnuts--
They had paid-time an der Küste
Surfing near Hurghada's huts.
Beginners also feel the urge.
They build a quiver, but never splurge
A Nivea sail from Tante Mai
A tie-on boom from cousin Kai.
As the isobars begin to stack
Our beginner loads his rack.
Now is burning his Surfer-Lust.
He fears nicht the strongest gust.
On TV the weather nerd
Predicts a Blitzkrieg: 6 Beaufort.
Does our newling think "Absurd!"?
No! he's thinking, "Go for it!"
First he stops to pick some books
From the cozy corners and nooks.
Bits of Rousseau, Kant, LaBoeuf.
Did these guys really sörf?
Picks three tomes of Karlchen Marx.
Maybe good to throw at sharks?
Good old Marcuse, he's a doozie.
But with philosophers one must be choosy.
Why these thinkers? you might wonder.
He takes advice from Uncle Günter,
Famous as a Starkbier-Trinker:
"Don't forget to bringen ze sinkers."
Did he see the tree tops swaying?
No! Inside his Dummkopf he is saying:
"I've had three lessons, I don't need more.
Now I'm ready for six point four."
Foam-crowns dot the water's surface,
Signaling that the wind is roughest.
Nature doesn't care at all
Whether he survives a squall.
But now is time to soak up sun,
Here is Spaß for everyone.
All may now be of good cheer,
At last! the Surf-time, she is here!
When in spring the tree sap rises,
Hopeful dreams a sailor prizes.
Tossing, turning the night before,
Wondering if a windig day's in store.
Will we on shortboards fastly blast
Or on the wind-gods curses cast?
A bit of caution our plan revises--
Spring breezes often bring surprises.
Surfers pack their trailers, cars and Kombis,
Drawn to wind like hungry zombies.
Those Weihnacht-gifts can now be usen.
Though something else we might have choosen.
Crawling into neoprene
Bits of whitish flesh are seen.
What's blue and white on northern beaches?
Hardy Germans without breeches.
Most are pale as weisse Würste,
A few as brown as hazelnuts--
They had paid-time an der Küste
Surfing near Hurghada's huts.
Beginners also feel the urge.
They build a quiver, but never splurge
A Nivea sail from Tante Mai
A tie-on boom from cousin Kai.
As the isobars begin to stack
Our beginner loads his rack.
Now is burning his Surfer-Lust.
He fears nicht the strongest gust.
On TV the weather nerd
Predicts a Blitzkrieg: 6 Beaufort.
Does our newling think "Absurd!"?
No! he's thinking, "Go for it!"
First he stops to pick some books
From the cozy corners and nooks.
Bits of Rousseau, Kant, LaBoeuf.
Did these guys really sörf?
Picks three tomes of Karlchen Marx.
Maybe good to throw at sharks?
Good old Marcuse, he's a doozie.
But with philosophers one must be choosy.
Why these thinkers? you might wonder.
He takes advice from Uncle Günter,
Famous as a Starkbier-Trinker:
"Don't forget to bringen ze sinkers."
Did he see the tree tops swaying?
No! Inside his Dummkopf he is saying:
"I've had three lessons, I don't need more.
Now I'm ready for six point four."
Foam-crowns dot the water's surface,
Signaling that the wind is roughest.
Nature doesn't care at all
Whether he survives a squall.
But now is time to soak up sun,
Here is Spaß for everyone.
All may now be of good cheer,
At last! the Surf-time, she is here!