DONALD DAVIE
I spent some time in the Kingdom of Fife, you see.
While we're about it, the title "Pastor" is
Dubious in my case, I must admit,
Like most things else about me. Pastor Collins,
I am most grateful to you. As for that
Brave friend I brought, he has departed quite
Over-joyed - I'll risk that, over-joyed.
Thomson:
Pastor Nemeth, do you perhaps not owe us,
Me and my colleague, a word of explanation?
Nemeth:
You think so, do you? Let's see; after
(Silence)
My years in the Kingdom of Fife (I passed for Polish),
Back to Berlin. To men of my
Generation (I could have fathered you,
Not many of us left), Berlin's the place.
" Fought with the wrong mob. Can't go home again" -
Epitaph here, unwritten, on many a grave-stone.
For instance in your cemetery one
South African Air Force grave-slab, the inscription
In Afrikaans. You fancy that equation?
Thomson:
Not much. And Dicky and I are not so green.
You push us hard.
Collins:
I'll go and refresh the pot.
Nemeth:
He's gone
to
alert the guard-room, I imagine.
Very proper. Your security
Was always lax, I should have been stopped at the gate.
Your people know me, though: a small-scale nuisance.
A few hours' inconvenience is all.
Thomson:
And what about that friend of yours whom Pastor
Collins so much obliged?
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