Starry Night Blues

A meditation on alternate ethnicity

Instead of singing the blues I put on wooden shoes and nibble Gouda cheese.
I love that cheese SO MUCH
I WISH I'D BEEN BORN DUTCH!
As history can attest all of the Dutch are blessed with great abilities.
I'm thinking of Rembrandt.
I'd be Dutch...but I can't.
They still make Dutch boy Paint. Vermeer was Dutch. I ain't.
The Dutch Trade crossed the seas.
Dutch always pay Dutch Treat. The Dutch are really neat!
Famke Jansen's hot. She is Dutch. I'm not.
The Dutch need bumblebees
to spread around the pollen of tulips grown in Holland.
It's now The Netherlands. Van Gogh's gifted hands sketched cafés, fields, and trees.
Poor Van Gogh had no peer.
I'm into Amstel Beer, and windmills, dikes, canals,
Honthorst, Ruisdael, Hal's...
and each Dutch kid agrees that Dutch-Dutch-Goose is fun!
THE DUTCH ARE NUMBER ONE!
When sad, I dial collect to strangers in Utrecht. They ask,"Who is this please?"
I say, "I'm Van der Heyden... I'm calling you from Leyden."
(der Heyden's dead of course...as is Gerhard Terborsch. He had Dutch Elm Disease.
Perhaps it was the plague. I want to tour The Hague, swim in the Zuider Zee,
or maybe water-ski, call some Dutch gal my squeeze, have Dutch blood in my veins...
I dig Dutch more than Danes, Norwegians, Swedes, or Finns.
The Father/Son Van Rijns had ragweed allergies. But that's beside the point.
They never smoked a joint. You can in Amsterdam. They're cooler than I am.

Author's Note

There are 16 additional lines that didn't fit, sorry!