Nooooooooooooooooo! My whole misspent youth just flashed before my eyes.
This song was very important to me. It came out at a low point of my life.
My pet muskrat, Mike, had run away from home. Some mean children had told Mike that he really wasn’t a French Poodle. I had raised Mike to believe that he was a show dog. I told him that his father was the national champion Poodle of Holland.
Mike bought a ticket to Holland to look for his roots.
Evidently, muskrats aren’t a common sight in Holland. The bigoted Hollandaisers chased Mike, throwing wooden shoes at him.
I never heard from Mike again. Some say he joined the French Foreign Legion and fought in Wisconsin. I don’t know.
I like to think that Mike is still out there “nibbling on bacon and chewing on cheese”.
Beau Geste, Mike, Beau Geste.