Yodeling Fool Poem by Rod M.Peters

I often dreamt of Swiss chocolate raining down
From the heavens above
And quaint Swiss clocks ticking accurately,
Making our messy little lives more precise,
And plump Swiss cows decked with wreaths of daisies
And tinkling bells, gracing our sun-parched meadows,
Forcing all those scraggy little goats
Into an early retirement, for the sake of a more
Postcard-perfect touch on our drab countryside.
Switzerland! Oh blessed piece of paradise
Transplanted to our bleak earth!
With ruddy yodelers showing us the way
To a higher form of communication!
Oh I yodel in praise of Switzerland:
‘Yodel-ay, yodel-oo, yodel-ay-hee-hoo! '
Little wonder I tired of those bleak, unSwiss-like lands
Sold all my possessions and,
Deeming myself computer-savvy enough,
Got me my tickets online and moved to Switzerland,
And though the heat was unbearable
And the din of distant tribal drums a bit unsettling
I plucked up courage and fresh upon arrival
Put on my knee-length leather breeches
And Tyrolean hat and climbed to the highest peak,
There to yodel to my heart's content:
‘Yodel-ay, yodel-oo, yodel-ay-hee-hoo! '
Long did I yodel, yes, but strangely enough,
No reply did I receive. I wondered:
‘Perhaps all yodelers are off to their coffee break? ',
So I asked a passing Bedouin:
‘My good man, why the scarcity of yodelers?
Surely in spite of globalization having messed
Things up and watered down ‘local color' everywhere
There's bound to be some still left here? '
And the tall, unwashed nomad, who turned out
Quite illustrated for your average tourist
Looked me up a bit baffled but composed
And replied:
‘Not as many as you would think,
Globalization being a factor indeed, but
Mainly because, you see,
We're in Swaziland here'.