We’re Jakob and Pauli, with something to say: Our aunt’s quite a Christmas gift—even today. Born seventh of eight, with a will all her own, At Penngut, a small but fierce sunflower had grown. She dreamed of a classroom, then made it come true; At Klessheim, she teaches what good hands can do. And just before Maximilian made his debut, She defended her master’s—one deadline, then two! From Canada’s wilds to the African sun, She travelled the world—but her roaming is done. For Georg, with his mountains, his farm and his dance, Made Abtenau more than a stop made by chance. He favours tradition; she dreams something new: More goats, perhaps donkeys—and greener fields, too. He pictures fine cattle; she pictures a zoo— May the pasture be spacious enough for you two! Though machines and Aunt Anna don’t always agree, And a kerb met a Passat rather unexpectedly, One thing needs no steering, no map and no chart: She’s found her way home to the right farmer’s heart. So here’s to your marriage: let deep roots entwine, With room for two branches, each free still to climb. May laughter fill the farmhouse, whatever you do— And love be the harvest that carries you through.