I just tried to remember all the songs I could sing, no matter how poorly. Singing is not my cup of tea, to be sure, but a few songs are still with me at all times. And I came up with no less than three songs, which I dutifully sung to myself one after the other by way of proof. The first one comes from Mexico: “La cucaracha, la cucaracha / ya no puede caminar / porque no tiene, porque le falta / marihuana que fumar.” The second one comes from the States, and is carved into my mind in Marilyn Monroe’s hushed voice: “Happy birthday to you / happy birthday to you / happy birthday Mr. President / happy birthday to you.“ And the third one is a Gypsy song from southern Serbia: “Jedan-dva-tri, čet’ri-pet-šest / sedam-osam, devet-deset / deset-devet, osam-sedam / šest-pet-čet’ri, tri-dva-jedan.” By the way, the last song involves nothing but counting to ten and then back to one in Bosnian-Croatian-Serbian or BCS. The Gypsy accent is essential when singing it. At any rate, I can sing three songs in three languages. Short though they are, they still come to my lips without any effort. There!