Happy Birthday, Stranger! Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Were you simply too dumb
to grow up and become
not a butcher or baker
nor a candlestick maker?

As they say here, at home
do not travel to Rome
stay and serve fellow man
be as kind as you can
put new soles on our shoes
make good wine, beer or booze,
be a preacher of sort
or a pro in a sport.

Like to fix people's ailments
or prevent those derailments
be a banker downtown
or a surgeon cum gown?

No you ripened like Neville
even look like the devil
had to drift with the breezes
taste the French and their cheeses
and the Krauts with their beer
you were foolish, you hear?

And today, like a missile
you come home and you whistle
while expecting applause
you get ohs, boohs and aawes.

It's your birthday you say now
well it's silly, you know how
all the people forget
as if never we met.

So you might as well run,
for our prodigal son
didn't go off to fiddle
from the earth's peaceful middle
to the poles and then back
leaving prints on the track.

Life is what you can make it
I suggest that you bake it,
that elusive of cakes
which will soothe all your aches.

Have a seat by the manger,
as you see it still stands,
Happy Birthday, lone stranger
and go back to your lands.