sung in British military messes in Occupied Germany, with obscene variations, to the tune of “Marche Militaire.”
“Way over there in a
Small town in Germany
There lived a shoemaker:
Schumann was his name.
Ich bin ein Musikant,
Ich bin fur das Vaterland,
I have a big bass drum
And this is how I play!”
(Followed by hands slapping on table tops).
Wilmington, Ohio, June 2012. This is the mobile audio studio in the pits across from the timing lights. A bit cramped, but gets the job done. Just like at Bonneville, but without the salt.
My clan in Webster Groves allows me to escape on occasion for some rubbing elbows in Land Speed Racing.
Late 70’s, mid-70’s, by 1984 I’d found my razor.
Best food in Eastern Europe, no question. Stayed with a family who rented out their extra room, great breakfast, great city for tourists.
Get a haircut, you swine, and maybe the East German border police won’t harass you. Just sayin’….
At the cantina for my usual evening meal, pipe optional for dinner.
This bleached parcel of Mexico shows my old homesite on the hill to the upper right.
Speed Bumps On The Road To Perdition 