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Waldendorf and Gluckenstein
Were friends of friends of friends of mine,
And though they’d many friends to see
They made their point to visit me.

I saw them as the train pulled in,
I waved and smiled a silly grin,
Then realized a sudden hitch,
I’d no idea which was which.

Was Waldendorf the bald, fat one?
Was Gluckenstein holding the gun?
A shot rang out on platform four
And one of them was here no more.

The police quickly came in view,
And I had nothing else to do,
Save watch as they made their arrest,
Saying this was Troon - not the Wild West.

Who’s Waldendorf? Who’s Gluckenstein?
The fault’s not theirs, the fault is mine,
And though it’s academic now,
I’d like to know who died somehow.