Excerpt from “Daddy” (Sylvia Plath) 1 In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. 5 My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. 10 The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. 15 And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. 20 I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack 25 I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. 30 Panzer-man, panze