"Hey Otto, you there?" calls his boss.
 To the four winds his words they are tossed.
 He's not to be found,
 in the country around...
 'Cos everyone knows Schindler's lost.


This newsgroup's been given a boost
(Or maybe we've only been goosed)
    By release of these verses;
    'Midst kudos and curses    
It's certain that Schindler's loosed


 His wife now calls "Liebling, wo bist?"
 And there, in a brandy fume mist,
 Does stand our friend Otto,
 He's totally blotto,
 Or as we Brits say: Schindler's pissed.


He tottered towards  home, but he missed
Providing town gossips more grist
    For their bad-mouthing mill
    And I guess they are still
Making fun of poor Schindler's list


 He looks at young Ula's firm bust,
 And says "Schoene madchen, you must
 Come with me to bed,
 And wide your legs spread."...
 That's right, it's the famed Schindler's lust.

She replied, "Herr Schindler, du biest
Zu grosse!" (She confessed to her priest
    That although she liked mine
    And Tiddy's just fine, 
She preferred Otto Schindler's least)


* * *


The race has been run, hard and fast;
The finish line all now have passed,
Except for our Otto,
Who, true to his motto,
Is still on his way... Schindler's last.

* * *

He stands, with his tool in his fist,
He's taken his aim, now he's pissed.
Alas though, it's all
Gone over the wall
And not in the bowl... Schindler's missed.

Verses 2, 4, 6 by John Miller.

Click here for his comprehensive site.

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Last updated: Sat, 30 Oct 1999.