Poetry Nook

On a beach in Northern Sweden
Sat a blond and rugged heathen.
An American had called him Swiss,
Thinking nothing was amiss,
So the blond and rugged heathen
Came to the beach in Northern Sweden.
Off his wrist he took a clock
And hurled it over sand and rock.
Into the sea sailed the Swiss Watch,
And the heathen, appeased, left for scotch.
But the rugged heathen knew not the hour,
While the watch kept ticking with all its power.
And still on that beach in Northern Sweden
All may come and play the heathen.
But before that childish ache you soothe,
Be sure your watch isn't waterproof.