Seed Is The Same (SITS)™

Seed Is The Same (SITS)™

This would never have made any sense at all to me (even if it makes very little now, or maybe only nonsense is all can be made of it), not gotten a second thought (it these are actually thoughts), if not for that year of German I had in high school. Or, I could say it was the year I spent with my German teacher in high school, even if I had other classes. What I could have said was, I really miss her, but I am glad I had that German teacher in high school, and wonder what she is up to now. When worded this way, it sounds like I actually had a German teacher, and she had me, in high school we had each other, and these days that would mean that I would have had Illicit Sex with my foreign language teacher, Joan Morgan, and that would have made me the foreign student, which reminds me of Mother Goose, and how they demanded that I play that number during breaks, but I digress, as usual. That was not how things went back in the sixties in Canby, Oregon, or not if you were me, anyhow. She (not the first Joan Of Yesterday (JOY)™ in my off-colored world) was probably as likely to have gotten involved that way as I was, which means, not yet, not then, not in those particular frames of time. Not many years later, I saw her in the hallway at PSU between classes, where we were both college students. I almost tried to get her attention then, and wonder now what that might have produced.

We could have spoken German all the time, whipering in our ears even, if we wanted, and if we had breath to use on making it get hotter (in here, or is it just me?). I was one of her better students that particular year when she was the teacher and we bought all those records to take home and practice extra, if we wanted to really learn German. I did, so I did. But it was only one year, and I never followed up on any of that training. I am a terrible German, or I would make a terrible German, making room for another innuendo if you know any terrible Germans who would like to get “made” by me, and there is no way around it. It is a fact. The past is cast in stone, in some senses.

Back to the original idea, which is that the seed in English is the same in German.

It’s true then, this English word: SEED
changes to this as a German word: SAME

The plural forms are very slightly trickier perhaps, since we use the letter “s” to form the normal plurals in English, while the more prevalent plural forms in German are like our children, and end with “en” instead. Some English words still look as German as they did originally, do they not, CHILDREN?

But that means we could have said Seeds Are The Samen, or to follow what came before,

Just as truly, this English word: SEEDS
changes to this as a German word: SAMEN

Perhaps I need to ponder this SAME=SEED idea more. Perhaps with more of my own kind of seed? The herbs and trees bring forth fruit from their own kind, because of the seed. My own seed is what I need? Maybe that is the message…

Perhaps to pen a tune lamenting our loss of, “Seeeeeeeed, seed seed seed…”

More along my loin of work is the anagram thing, so we have those, spilling all over the dam place, there on the river, rollin‘…

  1. Seed Is The Same,
  2. Disease Themes,
  3. The Idea Seems:
  4. Aside, She Meets
  5. Dame. See Thesis?

Even if you do not see it, maybe it sees you?

Mother Goose
– “Jethro Tull” (Ian Anderson) –

As I did walk by Hampstead Fair,
I came upon Mother Goose
So I turned her loose —
As she was screaming.
And a foreign student said to me —
Was it really true?
There are elephants, lions too, in
Piccadilly Circus?

Walked down by the bathing pond
To try and catch
Some sun…
Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls
Sobbing into hankerchiefs
As one.
I don’t believe they knew
I was a schoolboy…

And a bearded lady said to me —
If you start your raving —
And your misbehaving —
You’ll be sorry.
Then the chicken-fancier came to play —
With his long red beard,
And his sister’s weird
(She drives a lorry)…

Laughed down by the putting green —
I popped ‘em in their holes.
Four and twenty labourers were labouring —
And digging up their Gold.
Now, I don’t believe they knew
That I was Long John Silver!

Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds
In his jet-black mac,
Which he won’t give back —
Stole it from a snow man.
As I did walk by Hampstead Fair,
I came upon Mother Goose
So I turned her loose —
As she was screaming.

Walked down by the bathing pond
To try and get some sun…
It must have been at least a
Hundred schoolgirls sobbing into
Hankerchiefs as one.
I don’t believe they knew
I was a schoolboy…

Main source:, plus listening and transcribing to edit and perfect, oops, my “bad”!!!

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About Galen

Nearly over some hills, still a fool on whatever this thing is where I stand
This entry was posted in Anagrams, Blogroll, Jokes, Just For Fun, Musings, Poetry, Retention. Bookmark the permalink.

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