I Hear My Mattress Crying
Printed in Soul Series 2002

On my visit to the Fatherland,
My mood rises with the lively band,
Bicycle riding, tennis or kick ball,
Germany, it is a fun place for all.

Who would ever believe,
That this dear, dear place,
Was once a haven,
For an evil master race.

The folks so good and full of culture,
Makes me wonder of their leader,
If he really was a vulture.

Just one thing bothers me all right,
I always hear my mattress,
Crying at night.

When I told this fact,
To my kind German hosts,
They said, "Our mattresses are quiet."
Dead, still they boast.

Incidentally, the mattress stuffing,
Is made of fine Jewish hair,
And, for them to be crying,
Is really not fair.

We Germans have since paid our dues,
So, so sorry,
About the six million Jews.