So ve all dissolfed dat Breitmann shouldt hafe a nominationTo go to de Legisladoor, to make some dings off de nation;Mit de helb of a Connedigut man, in whom ve hafe great hobes,Who hat shange his boledics fivdeen dimes, undderefore knew de robes.
Denn for our Insdructions Comedy de ding vas protocollirt,By Docktor Emsig Grubler, who in Jena vonce studiret;Und for Breitmann his insdrugtions de comedy tid sayDat de All out-going from de Ones vash die first Moral Idee.
Und de segondt crate Moral Idee dat into him ve rings,Vas dat government for every man moost alfays do efery dings;Und die next Idee do vitch his mindt esbecially ve gall,Is to do mitout a Bresident und no government ad all.
Und die fourt' Idee ve vish der Hans vouldt alfays keeb in fiew,Ish to cooldifate die Peaudifool, likevise de Goot und Drue;Und de form of dis oopright-hood in proctise to present,He must get our liddle pills all bassed, mitout id'sgostin' a cent.[29]
Und die fift' Idee - ash learnin' ish de cratest ding on eart',Und ash Shoopider der Vater to Minerfa gife gebirt'-Ve peg dat Breitmann oonto oos all pooplic tocumentsVhich he can grap or shteal vill sendt - franked - mithis gompliments.
Die sechste crate Moral Idee - since id fery vell ish knownDat mind is de resooldt of food, ash der Moleschott has shown,Und ash mind ish de highest form of Gott, as in Fichte dot' abbear-He moost alfays go mit de barty dat go for lagerbier.
Now ash all dese insdrugdions vere showed to Mishder Twine,De Yangee boledician, he say dey vere fery fine:Dey vere pesser ash goot, und almosdt nice - a tarnal tall concern;Boot dey hafe some liddle trawbacks, und in fagdtweren't worth a dern.
Boot yet, mit our bermission, if de shentlemans allow-Here all der Sharmans in de room dake off deir hats und pow-He vouldt gife our honored gandidate some nodions of his own,Hafing managed some elegdions mit sookcess, as vell vas known.
Let him plow id all his own vay, he'd pet as sure as born,Dat our mann vouldt not coom oud of der liddle endt der horn,Mit his goot proad Sharman shoulders - dis maketoos laugh, py shink!So de comedy shtart for Breitmann's - Nota bene - after a trink!
Dere in his crate corved oaken shtuhl der Breitemann sot he:He lookt shoost like de shiant in de Kinder hishdorie:Und pefore him, on de tische, was - vhere man alfays foundt it-Dwelf inches of good lager, mit a Boemisch glass around it.
De foorst vordt dat der Breitmann spoke he maked no sbeech or sign!De nexd remark vas "Zapfet aus!" - de dird vas, "Schenket ein!"Vhen in commed liddle Gottlieb und Trina mit a shtockOf allerbest Markgraefler wein - dazu dwelf glaeser Bock.
Denn Mishder Twine deglare dat he vas happy to denounceDat as Coptain Breitmann suited oos egsockdly do an ounce,He vas ged de nomination, and need nod more eckshblain:Der Breitmann dink in silence, and denn roar aloudt, CHAMPAGNE!
Denn Mishder Twine, while drinkin' wein, mitwhilesvent on do say,Dat long instruckdions in dis age vere nod de dime of tay;Und de only ding der Breitmann need to pe of any useVas shoost to dell to efery man he's soundt oopon der coose.
Und ash dis liddle frase berhops vas nod do oos bekannt,He dakes de liberdy do make dat ve shall oonder-shtand,And vouldt dell a liddle shdory vitch dook blace pefore de wars:Here der Breitmann nod to Trina, und she bass aroundt cigars.
"Id ish a longe dime, now here, in Bennsylfanien's Shtate,All in der down of Horrisburg dere rosed a vierce depate,'Tween vamilies mit cooses, und dose vhere none vere foundt-If cooses might, by common law, go squanderin' aroundt?
"Dose who vere nod pe-gifted mit cooses, und vere poor,All shvear de law forbid dis crime, py shings und cerdain sure;But de coose-holders teklare a coose greadt liberdy tid need,And to pen dem oop vas gruel, und a mosdt oon-Christian teed.
"Und denn anoder barty idself tid soon refeal,Of arisdograts who kepd no coose, pecause 'twas nod shendeel:Tey tid not vish de splodderin' keese shouldt on deirpafemends bass,So dey shoined de anti-coosers, or de oonder lower glass!"
Here Breitmann led his shdeam out: "Dis shdory goes to showDat in poledicks, ash lager, virtus in medio.De drecks ish ad de pottom - de skoom floads high inteed;Boot das bier ish in de mittle, says an goot old Sharman lied.[30]
"Und shoost apout elegdion-dimes de scoom und drecks, ve see,Have a pully Wahl-verwandtschaft, or election-sympathie.""Dis is very vine," says Mishder Twine, "Vot here you indrotuce:Mit your bermission I'll grack on mit my shdory of de coose.
"A gandertate for sheriff de coose-beholders runWho shvear de coose de noblest dings vot valk peneat' de sun;For de cooses safe de Capidol in Rome long dimes ago,Und Horrisburg need safin' mighty pad, ash all do know.[31]
"Acainsd dis mighdy Coose-man anoder veller rose,Who keepedt himself ungommon shtill vhen oders came to plows;Und if any ask how 'twas he shtoodt, his friendtswouldt vink so loose,Und vhisper ash dey dapped deir nose: 'He's soundt oopon de coose!
"'He's O.K. oopon de soobject:[32] shoost pet your pile on dat:On dis bartik'ler quesdion he indends to coot it fat.'So de veller cot elegded pefore de beople foundtOn vhitch site of der coose it vas he shtick so awful soundt.
"Und efer in America, hencevorwart from dat day,Ash mit de Native Mericans, de fashion vas to say-Likes well in de Kansas droples - de shap who tid not refuseTo go mit beoples ash vanted him, vas soundt oopon der coose.
"Dis shdory's all I hafe to dell," says Mishder Hiram Twine;"Und I advise Herr Breitmann shoost to vight id on dis line."De volk who of dese boledics would oder shapders read,Moost waiten for de segondt pardt of dis here Breitmann's Lied.
ID hoppinet in de yar of crace, vhen all dese dings pegan,Dat Mishder Schmit, de shap who rooned acainsd der Breitmann,Vas a man who look like Mishder Twine so moosh dat beoples sayDey pliefe dey moost ge-brudert pe - Gott weiss in vot a vay!
Und id vas also moosh be-marked - vhitch look shoost like a bruder-Dat vhen Twine vas vork on any side der Schmit vas on der oderA fery gommon dodge ish mit de arisdocracie;So dat votefer cardt doorns op, id's game for de familie!
Nun, goot! Howefer dis might pe, 'tvas cerdain on dis hitDer Twine vas do his tyfelest to euchre Mishder Schmit;Und Schmit, I criefe to say, exglaimed: "Gaul darn me for a fool,But I'll smash old Dutch to cholera fits and rake theeternal pool!"
So dey cot some liddle ledders, ash brifate ash could pe,Vhitch Breitmann writed long agone to friendts in Germany;Und dey brinted dem in efery vay to make de beoples laugh,Und comment on dem in de shtyle dat "sports" call "slasher-gaff."
Dere-to - as vash known py shoodshment und glearly ascertained,Dat Breitmann hafe lossed money py a valse und schwindlin' friendt-So dey roon it droo de newsbapers, und shbeech to make pegan,Dat Breitmann shtole de gelt himself und rop de oder man.[33]
Boot de ding dat jam de hardest on de men dat bull de vires,Und showed that Copitain Breitmann shtood pedween dwo heafy vires,Vas, pecause he vas a soldier - von could see id at a clanse-Dey had pud him in a tisdrigt vhere he hadn't half a shanse.
For ash de pold solidaten ish more prafe ash oder mans,Dey moost lead de hope verloren und pattle in de vans;Und ash defeat ish honoraple to men in honor shtrict,Dey honor dem py puttin' em vhere dey're cerdain to be licked.
Boot dis dimes it shlopped over. 'Tvas de dird or secondt heat,Dat a soldier in dis tisdrigt had been poot oop und beat;So de Plue Goats dink it over und go quietly to vork:De bow vhen too moosh aufgespannt vlies packward mit a yerk.
Now Mishder Twine deglaret dat de ding seemed doubtenful,Boot mitout delay he dook de horns so poldly py de bull,Und shpread de shdory eferyvhere, dill folk to pliefe pecan,Dat Mishder Schmit had sold de vight unto der Breitemann!
He fix de liddle tedails - how moosh der Schmit hafe gotFor sellin' out his barty to let Breitmann haul de pot;Und he showed a brifate letter from Breitemann to Schmit,Vhere he bromise him for Congress if he shoost let oop a bit.
Der Twine vas writet dis ledder; for der Copitain BreitemannVould nefer hafe shtood soosh hoompoogks since virsthis life pegan:He hat tone some rough dings in de war, in deploonder-und-morder line,Boot vas hoockleperry-persimmoned mit dese boledics of Twine.
Howefer, dis ledder vorket foorst-rate - mit deMericans pest of all,For dey mostly dinked it de naturalest ding as efer couldt pefall;For to sheat von's own gonstituents ish de pest mofe in de came,Und dey nefer sooposed a Dootchman hafe de sense to do de same.
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Dere's nodings in dis vorldt so pad, ash all oov us may learn,Boot may shange from dark to lighthood, if loockshould dake a doorn;So it hoppinet mit Breitmann, who in spite of sin and Schmit,Gontrifed ad shoost dis yooncture do make a glucky hit.
Dey hat sendet out some plackarts to de Deutsche burgers all(N.B. - Dish ish not mean blackguards, boot de pillsdey shtick on de vall),To say dat a Massenversammlung - or a meeding of all dem asses-Vouldt be held in de Arbeiter-Halle, to consisd of deSharman classes.
Now dey gife de brinting of de pills to a new gekommene man,Who dinked dat Demokratisch vas de same ash Repooblican:Got im Himmel weiss vhere he'd hid himself on disfree Coloompian shoreDat he scaped de naturalizationisds, und hand't found out pefore.
Boot to dis Deutsche brinter, de only tifference hePetween Repooplicanish and Demokratisch tid see,Vas dat von vash dwo ledders longer; so he dookshoost vot seem patTo make de poster handsome - likewise a liddle fat.
How ofden in dis buzzlin' life shmall grubs grows oop to vings!How often shoost from moostard seet a virst-glasspusiness shprings!Van't klein komt men tot't groote, ash de Hollanders hafe said:Mit dese dwo ledders Breitmann caved in der Schmitsy's head.
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Dis tale dat Schmit hafe sell de vight cot so mooch put apout,Dat many of his beoples vere in fery tupious toubt;'Pove all, dose who were on de make, and easy change deir lodge,Und, pein awfool smart demselfs, pelieve in efery dodge.
Vhen de meeding vas gesempled, und dey found no Schmit vas dere,Dey looket at von anoder mit a ganz erstaunished air;But dey saw it glear as taylighd, und around a vink dere ran,Vhen pefore dem rose de shiant form of Copitain Breitemann!
Denn Breitemann vent los at dem: "He could nichts vell exbressDe rapdure dat besqueezed his hearts - de wonnevol hoppiness-To meed in friendtlich council and glasp de hand of dose,Who had peen mit most oonreason and unkindly galled his foes.
"Berhaps o'er all dis shmilin' eart' - he vould say itdere un denn-Soosh shpecdagles couldt nod pe seen of soosh imbardial men,So tefoid of base sospicion, so apofe all betty dricks,Ash to gome und lisden vairly to a voe in poledicks;
"Dat ish to say, a so-galled voe - for he feeled id in his soulDat de brinciples vitch mofed dem vere de same oopon de whole;But he lack a vord to exbress dem in manners opportunes"-Here a veller in de gallery gry oud, oonkindly, "Shpoons!"
Und dere der Breitmann goppled him: "If shpoons our modifes pe.Dere's nod a man pefore oos who lossed a shpoon by me:Far rader had I gife you all a shpoons to eaten mit,Und I hope to ged a ladle for mein friendt, der Mishder Schmit."
Dis fetch das Haus like doonder - it raise der tyfel's dust,Und for sefen-lefen minudes dey ooplouded on a bust;Und de chaps dat dinked of hedgin' saw a ring as round as O;So dey boked each oder in de rips und said, "I dold you so!"
For dis d'lusion to de ladle vas as glear ash city milk,Und drawd it on de beoples so vine ash flossen silk,Dat Hans und Schmit vere rollin' locks, und de locksvere ready cut;Only Breitmann hafe de liddle end, und Schmitsy dake de butt!
Denn Breitmann he crack onward: "If any 'lightened manVill seeken in his Bibel, he'll find dat a publicanIs a barty ash sells lager; und de ding is fery blain,Dat a re-publican ish von who sells id 'gain und 'gain.
"Now since dat I sells lager, I gant agreen mitDe demprance brinciples I hear dishtriputet to Schmit;Boot dis I dells you vairly, und no one to teseife-If I were Schmit, I'd pliefen shoost vot der Schmit peliefe.
"And to mine Sharman liperal friendts I might mention in dis shpot,Dat I hear an oonfoundet rumor dat der Schmit peliefe in Gott;Und also dat he coes to shoorsh - mit a brayer-book -for salfadion:I vould not for die welt say dings to hoort his repudation.
"Und noding is more likely dat it all a shlander pe,So also de rumor dat vhen young he shtoody divinidy:I myself, ash a publican, moost pe a sinner py fate,Und in dis sense I denounce mineself ash Republican-didate!
"Ash Deutschers say - und Yankees doo - vhen derwein ish in der man,So ish oopon de oder part, de wise-hood in de can,Vhitch brofes dat wein und wise-hood ish all de same, py shinks!Und de only real can-didate ish der veller ash coes for trinks:
"Und dat ve may meed in gommon, I deglare here in dis hall-Und I shvears mineself to holt to it, votefer may pefall-Dat any man who gifes me his fote - votefer his boledics pe-Shall alfays pe regartet ash bolidigal friendt py me."
(Dis voonderfol Condescension pring down drementous applause,Und dose who catch de nodion gife most derriple hooraws:Eshbecially some Amerigans ash vas shtandin' near de door,Und who in all deir leben long nefer heard so moosh sense pefore.)
"Dese ish de brinciples I holts, and dose in vitch I run:Dey ish fixed firm und immutaple ash de course of de 'ternal sun:Boot if you ton't approve of dem - blease nodice vot I say-I shall only pe too happy to alder dem right afay.
"Und undo my Demogratic friendts I vould fery glearly shtate-Since dis useless mit oop-gecleared minds to hold a long depate-Dat dere's no man in de cidy who sells besser liquor ash I,Und I shtand de treadts free-gradis vhenefer mine friendts ish try.
"Ad finem - in de ende - I moost mendion do you all, Dat a dootzen parrels of lager bier ish a-gomin' to dis hall: Dere ish none of mine own barty here, bot we'll do mitout deir helfs; Und I kess, on de whole, 'twill pe shoost so goot if ve trink it all ourselfs."
Soosh drementous up-loudation pefore vas nefer seen, Ash dey svored dat der Copitain Breitmann vas a brickpat, und no sardine;[34] Und dey trinked demselfs besoffen, sayin', "Hobe you wird sookceed!"- De nexter theil will pe de ent of dis historisch lied.
DERE'S a liddle fact in hishdory vitch few hafe oondershtand,Deutschers are, de jure, de owners of dis land,Und I brides mineslf oonshpeak-barly dat I foorst make be-known,De primordial cause dat Columbus vas derivet from Cologne.
For ash his name vas Colon, it fisiply does shine,Dat his Eldern are geboren been in Cologne on der Rhein,Und Colonia peing a colony, it sehr bemerkbar ist,Dat Columbus in America was der firster colonist.
Und ash Columbus ish a tove, id ish wort' de drople to mark,Dat an bidgeon foorst tiscofer land a-vlyin' from de ark;Und shtill wider - in de peginnin', mitout de leastest toubt,A tofe vas vly ofer de wassers und pring de vorldt herout.
Ash mein goot oldt teacher der Kreutzer to me tid ofden shbeak,De mythus of name rebeats itself - vhitch see in his "Symbolik,"So also de name America, if we a liddle look,Vas coom from der oldt king Emerich in de Deutsche Heldenbuch.
Und id vas from dat fery Heldenbuch - how voonderful it ron,Dat I shdole de Song of Hildebrand, or der Vater und der Sohn,Und dishtripude it to Breitemann for a reason vhitch now ish plain,Dat dis Sagen Cyclus full-endet, pring me round to der Hans again.
Dese laws of un-endly un-windoong ish so teep and broad and tall,Dat nopody boot a Deutscher hafe a het to versteh dem at all,Und should I write mine dinks all out, I tont peliefe inteed,Dat I mineslf vould versteh de half of dis here Breitmann's Lied.
Ash der Hegel say of his system - dat only von mans knew, Vot der tyfel id meant - und he couldn't tell - und der Jean Paul Richter, too, Who saidt: "Gott knows I meant somedings vhen foorst dis buch I writ, Boot Gott only wise vot das buch means now - for I hafe fergotten it!"
Und all of dis be-wises so blain ash de face on your nose,Dat der Deutscher hafe efen more intellects dan he himself soopose,Und his tifference mit de over-again vorldt, as I reallydo soospect,Ish dat oder volk hafe more soopose - und lesser intellect.
Yet oop-righty I confess it - mitout ashkin' vhy or vhence,Dere ish also dimes vhen Amerigans hafe shown sharp-pointet sense,Und a fery outsigned exemple of genius in dis line,Vas dishblayed in dis elegdion py Mishder Hiram Twine.
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Vide licet. Dere vas a fillage whose vote alone vouldt pe Apout enof to elegdt a man und give a mayority, So de von who couldt "scoop" dis seddlement vouldt make a lucky hit, But dough dey vere Deutschers, von und all, dey all go von on Schmit.
Now id hoppinet to gome to bass, dat in dis little town,De Deutsch vas all exshpegdin' dat Mishder Schmit coom down,His brinciples to foresetzen und his idees to deach-(Id est, fix oop de brifate pargains) - und telifer apooplic shbeech.
Now Twine vas a gyrotwistive cuss ash blainly ish peen shown,Und vas always an out-findin' votefer might pe known,Und mit some of his circumswindles he fix de matter so,Dat he'd pe himself at dis meeding, und see how dings vas go.
Oh shdrangely in dis leben de dings kits vorked apout,Oh voonderly Fortuna makes doorn us inside out.Oh sinkular de loock-vheel rolls - dis liddle meeding dere,Fixt Twine ad perpendiculum: - shoosh suit him to a hair.
Now it hopponet on dis efenin', de Deutschers von und all,Vere erwaitin' mit oonpatience de onfang of de Ball,Und de shates of nighdt vere fallin' und de shdars pegin to plink,Und dey vish dat Schmit vouldt hoory, for 'twas dimeto dake a trink.
Dey hear some hoofs a dramplin' - und dey saw unddinked dey know'd,De bretty greature coomin' on his horse entlang de road,Und ash he ride town invard de likeness vas so blain,Dey donnered out "Hoora for Schmit!" enof to make it rain.
Der Twine vas shdart like plazes - boot oop shdardet too his vit,Und he dinks, "Great turnips! - vhot if I couldt bassfor Colonel Schmit!Gaul darn my heels I'll do it - and go the total swine,Oh soap balls! - what a chance!" said dis dissembulatin' Twine.
Denn'twas "Willkomm! willkomm! Mishder Schmit!" rings aroom on efery site, Und "First-rate - how dy do, yourself?" der Hiram Twine replied, Dey ashk him "Coom und dake a trink" - boot dey find id mighdy gueer, Vhen Twine informed em none boot hogs vould trink dat shtinkin' bier.
Dat lager vas nodings boot boison, und as for Sharman wein,He dinks it vas erfounden exbressly for Sharman schwein,Dat he himself was a demperanceler, dat he gloria in de name,Und adfised dem all for tecence's sake to go und do de same.
Dese bemarks, among de Deutschers, vere apout as vell receife,Ash cats in a game of den-pins - ash you may of coorse peliefe,De heats of de recebtion vent down a dootzen degrees,Und in blace of hurraws was only heardt de roostlin' of de drees.
Und so in solemn stille dey scorched him to de hall,Vhere he maket de crate oradion vhitch vas so mooshto blease dem all,Und dis vay he pegin it: "Pefore I furder go,I vish dat my obinions, you puddin-het Dutch, shouldt know.
"Und eher I norate furder, I dink it only fair,Ve shouldt oonderstand each oder, prezackly, chunk and square;Dere are points on vitch ve tisagree, und I will plank de facts-I tont go round slanganderin' my friendts pehind deir packs.
"So I beg you dake it easy, if on de raw I touch,Vhen I say I can't apide de sound of your groontingshishing Dootch,Should I in de Legisladure as your slumgullion stand,I'll have a bill forbidding Dutch, droo all dis 'versal land.
"Should a husband talk it to his frau, to deat' he should pe led,If a mutter breat' it to her shild, I'd bunch her in de head;Und I'm sure dat none vill atvocate id's use in pooplic schools,Oonless dey're peastly, nashdy, prutal, saur-kraut eadin' fools."
Here Mishder Twine, to gadder breat', shoost make a liddle pause,Und see sechs hundert gapin' eyes - sechs hundert shdaring' chaws!Dey shtanden erstarrt like frozen - von faindly dried to hiss:-Und von saidt: "Ish id shleeps I'm treamin' -Gottstausend! - vhot ish dis?
Twine keptet von eye on de vindow, - boot boldly vent ahet,"Of your oder shtinkin' hobits no vordt needt here pe set;Shdop goozlin' bier - shdop shmokin' bipes - shdop rootin'in de mire,Und shoost un-Dutchify yourselfs! - dat's all dat I require."
Und denn dere coomed a shindy ash if de shky hat trop:"Trow him mit ecks, py doonder! - go - shlog him on de kop!Hei! shoot him mit a powie-knifes! - go for him, ganz and gar!Shoost tar him mit some fedders! - led's fedder him mit tar!"
Sooch a teufel's row of furie vas nefer oopkicket pefore,-Some roosh to on-climb de blatform, - some hooryto festen de toor,-Von veller vired his refolfer - boot de pullet missed her mark,She coot de cort of de shandelier - it vell - und de hall vas tark!
Oh vell vas it for Hiram Twine dat nimply he couldt shoomp!Und vell dat he light on a mist-hauf und nefer feel de boomp!Und vell for him dat his coot cray horse shtood sotteletshoost outside!Und vell dat in an augenblick he vas off on a teufel's ride!
Bang! bang! de sharp pistolen shots vent pipin' py his ear, Boot he tortled oop de barrick road like any moundain deer, Dey trowed der Hiram Twine mit shteins - boot dey only could be-mark Von climpse of his vhite ober-coat - und a clotterin' droo de dark.
So dey gesempeled togeder, ein ander to sprechen mit,Und allow dat soosh a Rede dey nefer exshpegt from Schmit!Dat he vas a foorst-glass plackguard, und so pig a lump ash ran,So - nemine contradicente - dey vented for Breitemann.
Und 'twas annerthalb yar dere after before de Schmit vas know,Vhat maket dis rural fillage go pack oopon him so,Und he schwored at de Dutch more schlimmer ashHiram Twine had done,-Note bene: he tid it in earnest, while der Hiram's vaspusiness-fun.
Boot vhen Breitmann heardt de shtory how de fillage hat been dricked, He schwore bei Leib und Leben, dat he'd rader hafe peen licked, Dan be helpet droo sooch slumgoozlin', - und 'twas petter to pe a schwein, Dan a schvindlin', honeyfooglin' shnake, like dat lyin' Yankee Twine.
Und pegot so heavy disgootet mit de boledics of dis land,Dat his friendts could barely keep him from trowin' oop his hand,Vhen he held shtraight-flush mit an ace in his poot-vitch phrase ish all de same,In de science of pokerology, ash if he got de game.
So Breitmann cot elegdet, py vollowin' de vay,Ve manage our elegdions oonto dis fery day.Dis shows de Deutch Dummehrlichkeit - also de Yankee "wit:"-Das ist das abenteuer how Breitmann lick der Schmit.
"Bjo foeri ek ther,Brynthings apaldr!Magni blandinnOk magentiri,Fullr er hann ljoda."-Sigrdrifurnal
"Beer I bear to thee,Battle's great apple-tree!Mingled with mightAnd with bright glory,All full of song."-The Edda.
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"Dere vas vonce oopon a dimes a Frantchman who asket if a Sharman could hafe esprit. Allowin for his pad shbellin, de reater will find dat der Herr Breitmann was hafe a spree goot many dimes. You gant ged rount de Dootch." - FRITZ SWACKENHAMMER.
GOTTS blitz! blau Feuer, potz bomben Tod!Vot shimmers in de mitnacht roth?Like hell-shtrom boorst o'er heafen's plain,Trowin dead light on eart acain:-Ja! - wide im nord om Odin shtoneLies a shiant form im glare alone.Troonk py de eis-kalt roarin shdreamDer Hans ish hafe ein wunder tream.
Troonk om haunted OdinsteinIm Hexenlicht und ElfenscheinVhere blooty Druids omens trewFrom grin und screech of shaps dey slew;Or vhere der Norseman long of yoreVas carven eagles on de shore,As o'er him yell de Valkyr brootUnd crows valk round knee teep im ploot,Vhile rabens schkreem o'er ruddy bay;Dere - ten pottles troonk - Hans Breitmann lay.
Fast und rof der war-man shnoreLike de hammer-shlog of Thor,Schnell ash Mjollner's bang und beatHeaved de form from het to veetVhile apofe him in de shkiesDere he saw a glorie rise,Und im mittle von it allDe iron lords of crate Valhall.
Long he gaze mit wolfen glareAt de Aesir in de air,Long mit schneerin baren grinHe toorn his nase auf und hin(For ne'er a Sherman - tam de otts-Vas efer yet gife in to Gotts),Dill avery Aes owned oop dat heA gott-like man of brass moost pe.
Shtern der Breitmann raise his het,To his fader Gotts he set:"Let your worts of wisehood shlip;Rush your runes, und let 'em rip!For you de gotts hafe efer peOf dose who vere ash gotts to me:-Alt Thor der Thoren here pelow-Vot hell you vants,[36] I'd like to know?"
Antworded ash de donner clangs,Der fader of de iron bangs:"De gotts will let de hell-dogs go,Und raise damnation here pelow;Until de sassy Frenchmen schmellDe rifers ten dat roon troo hellTo telle dis I comme dence,Dou lord of lion impudence.
"Drafeller! I know dee vell!Breitmann improturbable!Vhen on eart I hat my shy,Breitmann of dat age vas I.I schwear py Thor! so crate und gay,I smashed de Jotuns in my tay,Und dou shall pe ge-writ sooplimeAsh de crate Thor of deiner time.
"Now ve lets de eagles vlySkreemin troo de vlamin shky,Our own specials: - dare nod laugh;For in de London Telegraph,A voondrous poy vot make oos shdare,For hop vhat may, he's alvays dere!Vill dell de worlt, troo blut and flame,Hans Breitmann ist der Uhlan's name.
"Und all dou e'er on eart has done,From oop gang oontil settin sun,Vill pe ash nix - I schvear py Thor!To vat dou'lt do in dieser war;Plazin roofs und mordered men,Hell set loose on eart again;Rush und ride in shtorm und floot,Cannon roarin, pools of bloot;Deutschland mad in fool career,Led py dy Uhlanen speer,Hell's harfest - sheafs of fictorie,Reaped mit deat's sword und reapt by dee!
"Ja! On many a dorf und disch,Dou shalt pring a requisish;[37]Dwendy dimes de Frantscher menHafe sporned dy land in blut acain-All dose dwenty dimes in von,Py Deutschland shall to France pe done,Und dwenty dimes in blut and weinShalst dou refenge de Palatine.
"Go! - mit shpeer und fiery muth!Go! - mit durst for bier und blut!Go! - mit lofe for Vaterland,Into burning fury fanned:Towns und hen-roosts shall hafe shownVhere der Uhlan ist peen gone,Und cocks vill roon und men crow tameTo hear of der Uhlanen name."
Der fision fadet in de shky,Und hours vent on und time goed py.Vot heardest dou, Napolium?De rumpitty, rumpitty, rumpitty poom!Ven you hear de sound of de droom,Oh denn you know dat de Dootch hafe coom,De treadful roarin Dootch, mit de droomUnd de roompitty, pumpitty, poompity pum!De wild ferocious Dootch on a bum,Mit cannon roar und pattle hum,Mit fee und faw on de foe und fum!Led py de awful Breitemum!Bitty boom!! BOOM!!
WHO vas efer hear soosh voonders,Holy breest or virshin nonn?As pefelled de Coptain Breitmann,Vhen he hoont an air-ballon.Der Bizzy[38] und der Dizzy,[39]Mit lothairingen und Lothair,Vas nodings to dis Deutscher,Who vent kitin troo de air.
Id was in yar Nofember,In eighdeen sefendee,Der Breitmann vent a prowlin,By monden light vent he.In fillages desertedHe hear de Uhu moan;For you alvays hear der Uhu[40]Vhere der Uhu-lan ish gone.
Alone allonsed[41] der Uhlan,Boot nodings could he findSafe whitey clouds a drivinIn moonshine fore de wind.Boot ash he see dese cloudinsHe bemark dat von vas round,Und inshtead of goin oopwartsIt kep risin towards de ground.
"Oh, vot ish dis a gomin?Some planet, py de Lord!Too boor to life in heafen,Coom down on eart to poard;Und pelow it schwing tree engels-Two he-vons mit a wench.Boot, mein Gott! vot sort of engelsCan dose pe, dalkin Fraentsch!
"I hafe read in EckhartshausenDat oop in heafen - py tam!De engels dalk in Sherman,Und sing Mardin Luther's psalm.O nein - es sind kein engelnVot sail so smoofly on,Das sind verfluchte FranzosenIn einem luft-ballon!"[42]
Hei! how der Breitman streak itVen vonce he kess de trut'!He spurred id like de wild fireOf hope in early yout'.Troo de weingarts like der teufelVhen he shase a lawyer's soul;Down der moundain mit his lanzeUnd his wafin banderol.
Down de moundain, o'er de valley,Troo de village he ish gone;Dog-barks die out pehind him,Oders bark ash he come on.Liddle heedet he deir bellin,Liddle mind der Hahnen crow;Liddle hear der Bauern yellin,Clotter, clodder, on he go.
"Oh, vot ish hoontin foxen,Und vot ish yager pliss,Und vot ish shasin bisonOn de blains, to soosh ash dis?I hafe dinked dat roonin rebelsVas de best of eartly fun;Boot id isn't half so shollyAsh to go a luft-ballon."
Und ash id shdill vent onwart,Shdill onwarts mit der wind,Der coom a real madnessTo catch id, o'er his mind.Und had'st dou seen him vylin,Dat wild onfuriate brick,Dou'st hafe schworn dat Coptain BreitmannWas pecome balloonatic.
In fain dey trow deir sand-bags,In fain all dings let fall,De ballon shdill kep a sinkin,Und id vouldn't rise at all.Yet de wild wind trife id onwarts,Onwarts shdill der Breitmann go,Dill he cotch id py a rope-entVot vas hangin town pelow.
Boot vhen it risen oopwarts,Ash he cling to id, of corse,Mit de lefter hand he holtetTo de pridle of his horse.Der horse valk on his hind-legs:Too schwer to rise vas he;Mein Gott! vot fix for BreitmannOf de Uhlan cavallrie!
So he go for seferal stundenPetween himmel und eart pelow,Boot der teufel und die engelsCouldn't make der Hans let go.Dill all at vonce an ideeCoom from his loocky shtar-He led co his horse's pridleUnd glimb oop indo de car.
Und vot you dinks he foundetVhen in dat air-ballon?A nople Englisch vicomte,Milord de Robinson;Und mit him vas a laity,Mit whom he'd rooned afay,Whom he indroduce to BreitmannAsh die Jungfer Salome.
Und der dritte was a barson,Whom Milord, mit prudent view,Hat took als secretaire,Likevise for pallast doo.Dey should hafe bitched him oferVhen de gas was out, dey say;Boot de dame vould not 'low it:-She'd an arriere pensee.
Sait Milord: "Afar we've wandered,We are completely brown;And I'll give a thousand shinersIf you'll take me to a townWhere no one will molest usTill we find our way to Lon—"Here der Breitmann ent de sentenceAsh he gry out, shortly, "done."
"And as for this fair ladyTo whom I would be bound,"Sait Milord, "we'll have a weddingBefore we reach the ground.To escape her father's angerWe fled to live in peace,But she's relatives in London,And they have - the police."
O vas not dis a voondersTo make de Captain shdare?-A tausend pounds in bocketUnd a veddin in de air?He gafe avay de laity,Und als sie wieder kamZur festen Erde wieder,Ward sie Robinson Madame.[43]
"O go mit me," said Breitmann,"O go in mein Quartier!Don't mind dem gommon soldiers,For I'm an officier."He guide dem troo de coontryTill dey reach de ocean strand;Now dey sit und pless Hans Breitmann,In de far-off English land.
Dis ish Breitmann's last adfentureHow troo Himmel air flew he:Und it's dime, oh nople reader!For a dime to part from dee.Dou may'st dake it all in earnestOr pelieve id's only fon;Boot dere's woonder dings has hoppentFery oft in Luft-ballon.III.
"Tres estime ami, - Ick seyn nock nit verdorb,Vielleickt Sie denck wohl kar, das ick sey tod gestorb,Ock ne Kott loben Danck, ick leb nock kanss wohl auf.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Naturlich wie Kespenst die off die Kasse keh."- Deutsch-Franzos, Leipzig, 1736.
Vot roombles down de Bergstrass?Vot a grash ish in de air!Mit a desberate gonfusion,Und a gry of wild tespair,Das sind gethrasht Franzosen,[44]Und dose who after fleeAre de terror of Champagner,Die Uhlan cavallrie.
So liddle say die hoonted,De hoonters lesser shdill;Der Frank is ride for's leben,Der Deutscher rides to kill.Ofer dickly-doosty facesDeir eyes like wild-katzs glare;De blut und iron ridinOf furie und despair.
Boot of all de wild Uhlanen,Der Breitmann ride de pest;For he mark de Frantsch gommanterIsh most elegandtly tresst.Und ash he coom down on him,Dere's a deat' look in his eye:"Gotts! if I carfe dat toorkey,How I'll make de stoofin vly!"
Mit a clotter und a flotterLike a hell-sturm dey are on:Mit a rottle to de pattleCoom de Deutschers, knockin' down,Down de moundain to a brucke-Vhy die Frantschmen toorn ad bay?Oder Deutsch were dere pefore dem,Und die pridge ish coot avay!
Von second der FranzoseLook down mit blitzen eye;Von second at de brucke,Den toorn him round to die.Vhile mit out-ge-poke-te lanze,Like ter teufel shot from hell,Rode der ploonder-shtarvin BreitmannOn der grau-bart Colonel.
Vot for der Coptain BreitmannIsh shdop in his career?Vot for he pool his pridle?Vot for let down his speer?Vot for his eyes like saucersGrow pigger, rimmed mit staub?Vot for his hair, a pristlin,Lift oop his pickel-haub?[45]
So awfool - so oneart'ly,So treadful was his glare,So unbeschreiblich gastly,Dat der Colonel self was shkare.Oop come der Breitmann ridin,Und mit gratin force he said:"Bist - du - wirkelich - lebendig?[46]Can de grafe gife oop its tead?
"Dou livest yet - dou breaf'st yet,Dough oldter now you peSince I mordered you in Strasburg,Mein freund - mon Jean Bouilli.We lofed de selfe maidenWohl forty years agone:-She died to hear I kilt you:-Jean - how weiss your beard ish grown!
"I would gife my Hab' und Guter,[47]Dereto mein bit of lifeCouldt I pring dat shild to leben,Und make her, Jean, dy wife!"Here der Breitmann boorst out gryin,Like a liddle prook vept he;Und dey hugged and gissed einander,Der Breitmann und Bouilli.
"Ach, de efils dat from efilTroo a life ish efer grow!Had I nefer dink I killed you,Many a man were livin now-Many a man dat shleeps in cane-brakes,Many a man py pillow-shore;For dy morder mate me reckelos,Und von tead man gries for more!
"O Madchen! schon im Himmel-Can'st dink among de EngelnOf soosh as me und mine?Den look on soosh a Reue,Ash eart' has nefer known:-Whereto hast dou a sabre?Wherefore not kill me, Jean?"
"O, ne pleurez pas, mon Breitmann!Je trouve cela trop fort,"Gry der Colonel sehr politely;"How! - you crois dat I was mort!Mon Dieu! 'Tis but one minute,As we galloped to this plain,I thought your spear, mon gaillard,Would kill me o'er again.
Je vous fais mon compliment,Your tendresse becomes you well;Et ne pleurez pas, mon brave,Pour la petite demoiselle.I have had a thousand since;One can always find such game;Et pour dire la verite,I have quite forgot her name."
Der Breitmann lok so earnest,Long and earnest at his foe,Ash if seein troo his augenTo de forty years ago.Mit vot a shmile der BreitmannToorned roundt und rode away:Dat was all his parting greetinTo der Colonel Francais.IV.
O HEAR a wondrous shdoryVot soundet like romance,How Breitmann mit four UhlansVas dake de town of Nantz.De Frantschmen call it Nancy,[49]Und dey say its fery hardDat Nancy mit her soldiersVas getook py gorpral's guard.
Dey dink id vas King WilhelmAsh Hans ride in de down,Und like Odin in his glorieGazed derriply aroun'.Denn mit awfool condesenchenHe at de Frantschmen shtare,Und say, "Ye wretsched shildren?Abbortez mir vodre mere!"
Hans mean de city Syndic,Whom maire de Frantschmen call;So mit a tousand soldiersDey 'scort him to de Hall;In de shair of shtade dey sot him,Der maire coom to pe heard,Und Hans glare at him fife minutesPefore he shbeak a word.
Den in iron dones he ootered:"Ich temand que rentez fous:Shai dreisig mille soldatenBas loin l'ici, barploo!Aber tonnez-moi Champagner;Shai an soif exdrortinaire-Apout one douzaine cart-loads;Und dann je fous laisse faire."[50]
Denn he say to Schwackenhammer,His segretaire - "ReadA liddle exdra listeOf dings de army need,Und dell dem in FranzosischDey moost shell de neetfool downIn less dan dwendy minudes,Or, py Gott, I'll purn de town."
"Item - one tousand vatchesOf purest gold so fair;Dazu funf tousand silbern,For de gommon soldiers' wear;Und tree dousand diamant ringeDey moost make tirectly come,We need dem for our schweetheartsVen we write to em at home!
"Von million cigarrenVe'll accept ash extra boonsFor not squeezin dem seferely,Dazu dwelf tousand shboons."Here der maire fell down in schwoonin,Denn all dat he could sayVas ,"O mon dieu, de dieu, dieu!Nous voila ruinees!"[51]
No wort der Breitmann ootered,He only make a sgratch,Calm and silend on de daple,Mit a liddle friction match.De maire versteh de motion,So went him to de taskOf raisin mong de peoplesVot it vas der Breitmann ask.
So kam he mit de ringe,Dey vind dem pooty soon;So kam he mit de vatches,Und avery silber spoon.Boot ash for de champagner,He wept and loudly callDat par dieu! he hadn't any,For de Deutsch hafe troonk it all.
Ja! - de gorporal's guart have trinketEfery pottle in de down,Vhile dese negotiationsOop-stairs vere written down.Boot der Breitmann sooplimely,Like von who nodings felt,Said, "Instet of le champagnerNous brentirons du gelt."[52]
Ja wohl! Donnes cent mille franken,C'est mir egal, you know;[53]Pid dem pring id in a horry,For 'tis dime for oos to go."Der maire he pring de money,Und der Breitmann squeeze his hand,-"Leb wohl, dou nople brickbat,Herzbruder in Frankenland!
"Boot it griefes my soul to larmen,Und I sympathize mit dein,To pense of you, mon ami,Sans le champagner wein.Dere will oder Deutsch pe gomin,Und it preak mine heart to dinkDe vay dey'll bang and slang youIf dere's no champagne to trink!
"Cela fous fera misereQue she ne feux bas see;So, vollow mes gonseilles,Et brenez mon afis.Shai, moi, deux mille boutelles,De meilleur dat man can ashk,[54]Vich I will gladly sell-Sheap as dirt - ten franks a flask."
De maire look oop to heafen,Wohl nodings could he say,Vhile oud indo de mitnightDer Breitmann rode afay.Away - atown de falley,Till noding more abbearsBoot de glitter of de moonlight,De moonlight on deir spears.
HE sits in bivouacke,By fire, peneat' de drees;A pottle of champagnerHeld shently on his knees;His lange Uhlan lanzeStuck py him in de sand;Vhile a goot peas-poodin' sausageAdorn his oder hand.
Und jungere UhlanenSit round mit oben mout'To hear der Breitmann's shdoriesOf fitin in de Sout'Und he gife dem moral lessons,How pefore de battle pops:"Take a liddle brayer to Himmel,Und a goot long trink of schnapps."
Denn his leutenant bemarket:"How voonder shdrange it peenDat so very many wild pigsIsh dis year in de Ardennes.Ash I sout dere - donner'r'wetter!-I sah dem coom heraus,Shoost here und dere an EberMit a hoondert tousand sows.
"Shoost dink of all dese she-picksVot flet to neutral land!"Said Breitmann: "Fery easyIsh dis to oonderstand:Dese schwein-picks mit de sauenVot you saw a-roonin rond,Ish a crate medempsygosisOf the Frantsche demi-monde.
"I hafe readet in de BibleHow soosh a coterieVas ge-toornet into swine-picks,Und roon down indo de see;Boot since de see aint handy,Or de picks vere all too dumm,Dey hafe coot across de porderUnd vly to Belgium."
Now ash dey boorst oud laughin,Und got more liquor out,Dey hearden from de sendryA shot und denn a shout.Und Breitmann crasp his sabreQuick ash de bullet hiss,Und leapin out, demantet,"Herr'r'r'r Gott! vat row ish dis?"
Und bold der Schwabian answert:"Dis minute on de groundDere comed a Frantschman greepin,On all-fours a-prowlin round.I ask him vat he vanted;Werda! I gry; boot heSay nodings to my shallenge,Und only answer 'Oui.'
"So I shoot him like der teufels,Und I rader dink our friend,Dis sneakin Frank-tiroir,Ish a-drawin to his end."So dey hoonted in de pushes,Und in avery gorner dig,Boot, mein Gott! how dey vas laughin,Ven dey found a - mordered pig.
Next week dey hear from Paris,Und reat in de GauloisOf de most adrocious actionDe vorlt vas efer saw.How de Uhlan cannibalen,Dis vile und awful prood,Hafe killt a nople Frantschman,Und cut him oop for food.
"Ja - shop him indo sausage,Und coot him indo ham;Und schwear dey'll serfe all odersExacdly so - py tam!Sons of France, awake to glory,Let your anciend valor shine!Und shweep dis Prussian verminHet und dails indo de Rhine!"
For fear of some missed onder standings, I vould shtate, dat dis is only mean de last Barty dat der Coptain Breitmann has ge given - as yed. Pimepy I kess he gife anoder von, und if I kits an in- leading, or indrotuckshun, I kess I'll go. I am von of de vellers dat vas ad de virst Barty, vhere mine swister-in-law de Madilda Yane vas tantz mit Herr Breitmann.
FRITZ SCHWACKENHAMMER, Olim Studiosus Theologiae, now Uhlan free-lancer, und Segretarius of Coptain Breitmann.
VOT gollops at mitnight,Mit h'roolah and yell,Like der teufel's wild yagerBoorst loose out of hell?Vot cleams in the sonriseBright vlashin in gold?Das sind die UhlancersOf Breitmann der bold.
Dey frighten de coontry,Dey ploonder de town;And when dey are oopDie Franzosen co down:For pefore de wild NorsemenDe Southron must flee;Ab ira NormannorumLibera nos Domine![55]
How dey sweep de chateaux!How dey grab oop de hens!Und gobble de toorkeysShoot oop in de pensLike de Angel of Deat'Dey are ragin abroad:You may track dem py feddersKnee-deep in de road.
O der Breitmann ish on,Und der Breitmann is on,Und mit him de UhlansAre ploonderin gone.De demon of fengeanceHis wings o'er em vave,Mit deir fingers like hooks,Und mit maws like de grafe.
Dey coom to a castel,So shplendid, of bricks;Franzosen defend it,Das help em gar nichts.For de Uhlans hafe take it,Dey smash in de gate,Und inshpired by Gott's fury,Dey shdole all de plate.
From shamber to shamberDey fighted deir way,Till dead in de hallDe Franzosen all lay;Und dere shtood a madchen,So lieblich und hold,Who laugh at de deadTroo her ringlocks of gold.
Denn der Breitmann, all plooty,To'm madel so lind,Spoke courtly und tender:"Vy laughst dou, mein kind?"Denn de plue-eyed young peaudy,Mit lippe so red,Said, "Vy not shall I laughen?Vhen Frenchmen are dead.
"I coom here from Deutschland,De shildren to teach;Dey mock me for Deutsch,Und dey sneer at mein sbeech;Und since de war komm,I vas nearly gone mad,You wouldn't peliefeHow dey dreet me so pad."
Mit a tear Breitmann bendTo de peaudifool miss;"Crate Gott! can'st dou sufferSoosh horrors ash dis?"His arm round de maidenDer hero has bound,Und it shtaid dere goot vhile,Fore dey got it unwound.
"Ho! fetch me de diamonds!Ho! shell out de rings!Mit all in de castleOf dat sort of dings."Twas brought to de Captain-A donderin load:At de veet of de madchenDat ploonder he trowed.
"Ho! pring oos champagner!Und light oop de hall!Dis night der Herr BreitmannWill gife you a ball.Dat pile of dead vellers,Vot died for La France,May see, if dey like,How de Shermans can tance."
Dey find laties' garments,Und - troot to confess-Likewise som Frantsch maidens,Who help dem to tress.De rest of de UhlansWho hadn't soosh loves,Fixed oop in black clothesMit white chokers und gloves.
Now hei! for de fittles!Und hei! for clavier!For de tantz of de Uhlans-De men of de speer!How de shendlemen ashkIf dey'd blease introduce;How de ladies mit beardsWere called Espionnes Prusses!
Hei, ho! how dey tanzet!Hei, ho! how dey sang!How mit klingen of glassesDe braun arches rang.How dey trill from deir heartsAsh dey pour out der wein,De songs of de Oberland,-Songs of der Rhein.
Und madder und wilder,All whirlin around,Vent Hans mit de maidenIn Bacchanal bound.She helt to his peard,Und dey gissed as if mad;I tont dink dat eferVas dimes like dey had.
Boot calm in de hall,Ever calm on de floor,Was a row of still guestsDat wouldn't tantz nefermore.Mit plood shtreams black winding,Der lord mit his men,When der Youngest Day coomsHans may meet dem acain.
Hoorah for der Uhlan,So rash und so wild!Hoorah for der Uhlan,Der teufel's own child!-Dis ish "Breitmann's Last Barty,"Dey'll sing it for years;De lords of de lanzes,De sons of de speers.
For dey frighten de coontry,Dey ploonder de town;Und when dey are oopDe Franzosen go down;For pefore de wild NorsemenWeak Southrons moost flee,Ab ira NormannorumLibera nos Domine!
——-
BREITMANN IN PARIS. (1869.)
"Recessit in Franciam."
"Et affectu pectoris,Et toto gestu corporis,Et scholares maxime,Qui festa colunt optime."- Carmina Burana, 13th century.
DER teufel's los in Bal Mabille,Dere's hell-fire in de air,De fiddlers can't blay noding elseBoot Orphee aux Enfers:Vot makes de beoples howl mit shoy?Da capo - Bravo! - bis!!It's a Deutscher aus Amerika:Hans Breitmann in Paris.
Dere's silber toughts vot might hafe peen,Dere's golden deeds vot must:Der Hans ish come to FrankenlandOn one eternal bust.Der same old rowdy ArgonautVot hoont de same oldt vleece,A hafin all de foon dere ish-Der Breitmann in Paris.
Mit a gal on eider shoulderA holdin py his beard,He tantz de Cancan, sacrament!Dill all das Volk vas skeered.Like a roarin hippopatamos,Mit a kangarunic shoomp,Dey feared he'd smash de Catacombs,Each dime der Breitmann bump.
De pretty liddle cocodettesLofe efery dings ish new,"D'ou vient il donc ce grand M'sieu?O sacre nom de Dieu!"In fain dey kicks deir veet on high,And sky like vlyin geese,Dey can not kick de hat afayFrom Breitmann in Paris.
O vhere vas id der Breitmann life?Oopon de Rond Point gay,Vot shdreet lie shoost pehind his house?La rue de Rabelais.Aroundt de corner Harper's shtandsVhere Yankee drinks dey mill,Vhile shdraight ahet, agross de shdreet,Der lies de Bal Mabille.
Id's all along de Elysees,Id's oop de Boulevarce,He's sampled all de weinshops,Und he's vinked at efery garce.Dou schveet plack-silken Gabrielle,O let me learn from dee,If 'tis in lofe - or absinthe drunks,Dat dis wild ghost may pe?
Und dou may'st kneel in Notre Dame,Und veep away dy sin,Vhile I go vight at Barriere balls,Oontil mine poots cave in;Boot if ve pray, or if ve sin-Vhile nodings ish refuse,Tis all de same in Paris here,So long ash l'on s'amuse.
O life, mein dear, at pest or vorst,Ish boot a vancy ball,Its cratest shoy a vild gallop,Vhere madness goferns all.Und should dey toorn ids gas-light off,Und nefer leafe a shbark,Sdill I'd find my vay to Heafen - or-Dy lips, lofe, in de dark.
O crown your het mit roses, lofe!O keep a liddel sprung!Oonendless wisdom ish but dis:To go it vhile you're yung!Und Age vas nefer coom to him,To him Spring plooms afresh,Who finds a livin' spirit inDer Teufel und der Flesh.
DER Breitmann sits in la Sorbonne,A note-pook in his hand,'Tvas dere he vent to lectures,Und in oldt Louis le Grand.Id's more ash two und dwendy yearsSince here I used mein pen;Oh, where ish all de characders,Dat I hafe known since denn?
Der cratest boet efer vas,Der pest I efer known,Vent lecdures here, too, shoost like me,Le Sieur Francoys Villon.He raise de teufel all arount,He hear de Sorbonne chime;Crate shpirid ender in mein heart,Und mofe mein soul to rhyme.
Dictes moy - in what shpirit landIsh Clara Lafontaine?Or Pomare, or La Frisette,Who blazed on soosh a train?Shveet Echo flings de quesdion pack,O'er lake or shdreamlet lone;All eartly peauty fades afay,Vhere ish dem lofed ones gone?
Oh, vhere ish Lola Montez now,So loved in efery land?How oft I shmoked dose cigarettesShe rollt mit vairy hand!Dat mighdy soul, dat shplendit brick,A saint's pecome to be,For mit soosh saints der Breitmann makeHis Hagiologie.
Und vhere ish La Pochardinette?Ish she too mit de dead?She loafed de Latin Quarter mitA hat und fedder on her het.Lebe wohl petite Pochardinette!Qui ne safait refuser,Ni la ponche a la bleine ferre,Ni sa pouche a un paiser.
O Prince! dese quesdions all are nix,I sit here all alone,Mit von refrain to end de shdrain,Vhere ish mein lofed vons gone?Vhen Marcovitch has cut und run,Und Schneider's off de ving,Some cray old reprobate like meVill of dese lofed vons sing.
DERE woned once a studente,All in der Stadt Paris,[56]Whom jeder der ihn kennte,Der rowdy Breitmann hiess.He roosted in de rue La Harpe,Im Luxembourg Hotel,'Twas shoost in anno '48,Dat all dese dings pefel.
Boot he who vouldt go hoontin nowTo find dat rue La Harpe,Moost hafe oongommon shpecdagles,Und look darnation sharp.For der Kaisar und his HausmannMit hauses made so vree,Dere roon shoost now a BouleverseVhere dis shdreet used to pe.
In dis Hotel de Luxembourg,A vild oldt shdory say,A shtudent vonce pring home a dame,Und on de nexter day,He pooled a ribbon from her neck-Off fell de lady's het;She'd trafelled from de guillotine,Und valked de city - deadt.
Boot Breitmann nefer cared himselfIf dis vas falsch or drue,I kess he hat mit lifin galsPout quite enough to do.Und Februar vas gomin,Ganz revolutionnaire,Und vhere der Teufel had vork on hand,Der Hans vas alvays dere.
Und darker grew de beople's brows,No Banquet could dey raise,So dey shtood und shvore at gorners,Or dey singed de Marseillaise.Und here und dere a crashin soundLike forcin shutters ran,Und boorstin gun-schmidts' vindows inHard vorked der Breitemann.
He helped to howl Les Girondins,To cheer de beople's hearts;He maket dem bild parricadesMit garriages und garts.Vhen a bretty maiden sendinelVonce ask de countersign,He gafe das kind a rousin giss,Gott hute dir und dein!
Und wilder vent de pattle,France spread her oriflamme,Und deeper roared de sturm bell,De bell of Notre Dame;Und he who nefer heard it,O'er shots und cries of fear,Loud booming like a dragon's roar,Has someding yet to hear.
Und in de Fauborg Sainte AntoineDere comed a fusillade,Und dyin groans und fallin deadVere roundt dat parricade,But der song of RevolutionFrom a tousand voices round,Made a fearful opera gorusTo de deat' gries on de ground.
Und all around dose parricadesDey raise der teufel dere;Somedimes dey vork mit pig-axes,Und somedimes mit gewehr.Dey maket prifate housesGife all deir arms afay,Und denn oopon de panelsDey writet Armes donnees.
Und ve saw mid roarin vollies,Shtreaked like banded settin suns,Two regiments coome ofer,Und telifer oop deir guns.Hei! - how de deers vere roonin:Hei! - how dey gryed hurrahs!For dey saw de vight vas ofer,Und dey know dey gained deir cause.
Dus spoke deir hearts outboorstin,In battle by de blade,From sun to sun mit roarin gunUnd donnerin parricade.In vain pefore de depudiesDe princes tremblin stood,Vot comes in France too late a dayCooms shoost in dime for blood.
Vhen de Tuileries vas daken,Amid de scotterin shot,Und vlyin stones, und howlin,Und curses vild und hot,'Tvas dere Hans clobbed his musket,Und dere de man vas firstTo roosh into de palace,Ven de toors vere in-geburst.
Some vellers burn de guart-haus,Some trink des Konigs wein;Some fill deir hats mit rasbry sham,Und prandy beeches fein.Hans Breitmann in de gitchenVas shdare like avery ding,To see vot lots of victual-de-deesId dakes to feed a king.
Und oder volk, like plackguarts,Vent dook de goaches out;Und burnin dem, dey rolled demAfay mit yell und shout.Der Breitmann in der barlor,Help writen rapidly,La liberte pour la Pologne!Likevise - pour l'Italie!
Den in der Tuileries courtyardTen tousand volk come on;Dey vas gissin und hurrahinFor to dink der king vas gone.Some vas hollerin und tantzinRound de blazin oldt caboose;Vhen Frantschmen kits a goin,Den dey lets der teufel loose.
Boot von veller set me laughin,Who roosh madly roun de field;He hat rop de Cluny Museum,Und gestohlen speer und schild.Mit a sblendit royal charger,Vitch he hat somevhere found,Like a trunken Don Quixote,He vent tearin oop und round.
Doun vent de line of Bourbons,Doun vent de vork of years,Ash de pillars of deir templeGe-crashed like splintered speers;Und o'er dem rosed a phantom,Wild, beautiful, und weak,Vhile millions gry arount her-Vive! vive la Republique;
Tree days mid shdiflin powder shmoke,Tree days mid cheers und groans,Ve fought to guard de parricades,Or pile dem oop mit shtones.De hand vitch held de bistol denn,Or made de crowbar bite,Das war de same Hans Breitmann's handVitch now dese verses write.
——-
"Vlaenderen, dag en nachtDenk ik aen u.Waer ik ook ben en vaer,Gy zyt my altyd naer.Vlaenderen, dag en nachtDenk ik aen u.
Overal vrolykheid,Overal lust.Maegden van fier gelaet,Knapen zoo vroom en draet.Overal vrolykheid,Overal lust."- Hoffmann von Fallersleben.
VHEN sommer drees shake fort deir leafs,Ash maids shake out deir locks,Und singen mit de rifulets,Vitch ripplen round de rocks,Und beople swarm land-outwards,Und cities weary men,Hans Breitmann rode de Belgier markFor Spa in Les Ardennes.
Und vhen he came to Spadenland,He found it fein und fair,For dey pour him out de peke schnapps,Dazu elixer rare;Und mit a soldier's inshdinkTo find a shanse to shoot,Mitout delay he fire afayRight in de Grande Redoute.[57]
De virst shot dat der Breitmann firedHe pring de peaches down,For he hit de double zero mitA gold Napoleon.Und ash he raked de shiners in,He hummed a liddle doon:"I kess I tont try dat again,"Said he, dis afdernoon.