Way out East there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of John Coffey. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. John Coffey, he called himself John Coffey. Now, John Coffey — he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.
But then again, maybe that’s why I found the place so darned interestin’. They call the Netherlands the Low Country. I didn’t find it to be that, exactly. But I’ll allow there are some short folks there. ‘Course I can’t say I’ve seen London, and I ain’t never been to France. And I ain’t never seen no queen in her damned undies, so the feller says. But I’ll tell you what — after seeing the Netherlands, and this here story I’m about to unfold, well, I guess I seen somethin’ every bit as stupefyin’ as you’d see in any of them other places. And mostly in English, too. So I can die with a smile on my face, without feelin’ like the good Lord gypped me.
Sometimes there’s a man — I won’t say a hero, ’cause, what’s a hero? But sometimes, there’s a man. And I’m talkin’ about John Coffey here. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that’s John Coffey, in the Netherlands. And even if he’s a lazy man— and John Coffey was most certainly that. Quite possibly the laziest man in Western Europe, which would place him high in the runnin’ for being laziest worldwide. But sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But — aw, hell; I’ve done introduced him enough.
(Many thanks to Intertunnel pioneer Charles Schneider for braving the elements to bring us this delicious bass of a video)