(Riding upon a donkey, that St Peter leads upon bridle.)
St Peter, speak, is you to hand
Not anywhere a smith known in this land?
Because our donkey looses his irons:
So we can not further ridens;
He is from way tired and beaten:
He hungers, and also we are not eaten.
[Land & hand rhyme
well, as does beaten and eaten. One can tell that this is a beautiful story]
My Herr and Master, to this demand
Reigns the Anarchist in this land:
One knocks well on hundred doors,
Before on one is opends:
And are the pockets of money no klinking,
So no Apostle finds hearing.
[How to make klinking and hearing rhyme? Doors and opens is problematic]
St. Petrus, so take your fishing gear,
And fish us some, or it will be too dear;
My mouth demands an evening bread;
But all too sharp bites hungers-dread.
[gear & near, bread & dread are perfect]
O Herr, well would I of frustration
Already my pole in the river have shaken:
The Thüringen is a poor nation:
Therefore the fishers have forshaken:
They only care there in the stream to spring,
Where the Herrn Pather Kyrie Elison sing.