“Welcome to Sweden,” said the Swede. I looked round,
Expecting to see Harris who I knew was keen
to chase
Some skirt, but there was no one
To be seen, only the rough
Outline of a bear, walking backwards
And chewing furiously.
“Was that Harris?” I asked the Swede.
“Ja,” the Swede replied. “In my country,” he explained,
“Shit happens. Harris,” he added,
“Has gone to a better place.”
“Nej, nej!” protested his wife. “There is no better
“Place than Sweden. I have had all my babies here
“And I thoroughly recommend it!”
“I tell you, there damn well is a
better place!”
Shouted a Norwegian, stamping his foot
angrily.
A coarse and guttural voice cut through
The shale of politeness. “I am agreeing
“To the Norwegian on this matter,” a German
Growled.
“I say, chaps,” I said,
“Let’s keep sight of the main thing
here. Harris
“Has just been eaten by a bear. Hardly the time
“To compare national anthems.”
The German nodded vigorously. “If you vould
“Collect ze remains of Harris you must go
“In ze voods.
Färbt sich rot die Spur des Bären,
“Wächst der Mut auch feigen Hunden.” Which presented us
With some problems. It was Rathbone
Who grasped the matter by the throat.
“They say, ‘Ein Blitz trifft mehr Bäume als
Grashalme’.
“Ain’t that so, Fritz?” The German looked at Rathbone
Rather like (I thought later) a starving
child being handed
A bottomless bowl of porridge. “Ja, ja!
“Ve do say zat!” he squealed
delightedly. “Harris
“Was just an unlucky tree,” Rathbone
concluded.
“Ja, that’s it!” beamed the Swede. “Let’s celebrate
“This coming together of minds with a bottle
“Of akavit and a plate of pickled herrings!”
“I’ll collect Harris then,” said Rathbone.
“I hate herrings.”
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