Isar Encounter

There sat on Munich's river bank upon a travel rug a Yank. Composing stories of the South and putting Pretzels in her mouth. Came riding from the border, Dutch bespectacled and strange as such, got off his horse from way up high apologised for dropping by. And when he left he sang a song about the brave, the young and strong because he needed now to purge with overwhelming sudden urge what he had read in purple ink 'but am I harsh? ', it made him think that he was not a proper critic and that his mind was analytic and not equipped to judge those words although he thought that some were turds so off he went over the hill and kept his mouth forever still.