Irmgard’s Birthday Song

Back in the year nineteen sixteen,

The Hörmanns arrived pure and pristine,

With Vati as pastor, Saved the church from disaster

In the state that once had its own queen.

 

A year passed when Mutter and Vater

Were parents to one tiny daughter

With Bobo, big brother, and Tuti another,

Little Ingi’s life was full of lawf-ter.

 

In the parsonage standing on Green Street

They ate pickled herring and roast meat,

And with her friend Bappy Her life was quite happy.

They climbed up big trees in bare feet.

 

Show and Tell was a time to display

Things often to teachers’ dismay

Ingi said she was born So early one morn

On her own Mom and Dad’s wedding day.

 

At Columbia in Library Science

She studied with fairhful compliance.

From Shaekspeare to Austen, Not yet banned in Boston,

She gained in her own self-reliance.

 

For years she helped young adults find

Good books to appeal to heir minds.

Perhaps ’twas the Odyssey of books about “Mud-duhs-dey.”

She’s always found just the right kind.

And now it is many years later,

Ingi’s now our Mater and Pater.

She’s been around since this (LCH) was found,

So no one could be too much greater.

 

And unless all the rest of us goof,

By Christmas we’ll hear reindeer hoof,

A-prancing so sprightly With hooves beating lightly

Across Hörmann Courtyard’s new roof!.

 

And so to our dearest Irmgard,

We give you our deepest regard.

You give us your glory; Don’t stop talking story,

Especially in Hörmann’s Courtyard!