Puncture Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A father dressed in black attire
did get a puncture in his tire.
He stood there, thinking what to do
the car, a Bimmer, was brand new.

He looked inside the glovebox book
to ascertain just what it took
to fix the fault but he soon found
that all the letters looked so round,

at last the secret was revealed
as all instructions were concealed
in Krautspeak, from the Southern regions
complete with flag, to show allegiance.

Well, that was that and he went down
upon his knees with his black gown.
He prayed until the sunset then
recited from Apostles ten

and would you know, there was a rush
of ice cold air, and then a hush.
The problem had been fixed by God
and only those would find this odd
who don't believe in things devine
and drink the cheapest, foreign wine.