Bud, calling from Mozambique.
I've been here nearly a week.
—I'm getting so skinny
—Of food I haven't any
'Cause I don't know a word that they speak.
I know the King's English, and so is the Queen
And I have a pocketful of the green
—But I'm wasting away
—Mlore and more every day
Guess I'll have to call L.L.Bean.
A care package finally arove
A parka, gloves, a campstove,
—Mukluks and a coonskin hat
—And other worthless stuff like that.
A real Eskimo treasure trove.
So I'll say goodbye to this place
And hop a plane for Alsace
—Where I know they have dishes
—Much more to my wishes
And I'll even consent to say grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nothing worse than that hunger bite