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JUST LIKE OUR MISTER HUBER
Just like our Mister Huber,
you’ve been drinking.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you drown the day.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you’re swimming round the town.
Just like our Mister Huber,
with music on the brain.
Just like our Mister Huber,
a girl shines in your eyes.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you touch the evening sky.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you float between the trees.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you’re dancing.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you’re skating on thin ice.
Just like our Mister Huber
flickers in the candlelight.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you kick the Gartenstrasse leaves.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you kiss the soppy streets.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you lurch along the keys.
Just like our Mister Huber
blows his life away.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you taught us all to climb.
Just like our Mister Huber,
you fly, you fly.
Keith Armstrong
Note: This poem was inspired by a reading I gave in a Tuebingen school, after which a teacher said that I was ‘Just like our Mister Huber’ - a music teacher, popular with the girls, once discovered slumped drunk over his piano in the music room!
Later, I discovered that a Professor Kurt Huber was stripped of all his academic honours and executed for his part in the ‘White Rose’ anti-Nazi resistance network. The Nazis had previously allocated him additional money for his researches into German folk-songs.
Sophie and Hans Scholl (sister and brother) were also executed for their parts in the ‘White Rose’ resistance. Sophie Scholl went to the scaffold on crutches and was beheaded by an executioner dressed in top hat, white tie and tails.
The ‘Geschwister Scholl Schule’ in Tuebingen is a comprehensive school dedicated to their memory.
