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Charles Godfrey Leland.

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Mit sauer-kraut und speck.
Und dat no man shouldt pe shlightet,
Or dreatet ash a tunce,
Dey 'greed to dry deir systems
Oopon Breitmann - all at vonce.

Dat ish, mit de exscepdion
Of gifin' Schlesier-wein:
For de remedy vas dangerfull
For von who trink from Rhein.
Ash der Teufel vonce deklaret,
Vhen he taste it on a shpree,
Dat a man, to trink soosh liquor,
Moost a porn Silesian pe.

So dey all vent los at Breitmann,
Und woonderfool to dell,
He coom to his Gesundheit,
Und pooty soon cot vell.
Some hinted at Natura,
Mit her olt vis sanatrix,
Boot eash doktor shvore he curet him,
Und de rest were taugenix.

I know not vot der Breitmann
More newly has pegun;
Boot dey say he talks day-dayly
Mit Dana of de Sun.
Dey talk in Deutsch togeder,
Und volk say de end will be,
Philosopedal shanges
In de Union Cavallrie.

Gott helf de howlin' safage!
Got helf de Indi-án!
Shouldt Breitmann shoin his forces
Mit Sheneral Sheridan!
Und denn, to sing his braises,
I'll write anoder lied:
Hier hat dis dale an ende,
Of Breitmann's Philosopede!


DIE SCHÖNE WITTWE[9]

(DE POOTY VIDOW.)

I.

VOT DE YANKEE CHAP SUNG.

DAT pooty liddle vidow
Vot ve dosh'nt vish to name,
Ish still leben on dat liddle shtreet,
A doin' shoost de same.
De glerks aroundt de gorners
Somedimes goes round to zee
How die tarlin' liddle vitchy ees,
Und ask 'er how she pe.
Dey lofes her ver' goot liquœr,
Dey lofes her liddle shtore;
Dey lofes her little paby,
But dey lofes die vidow more.
To dalk mit dat shveet vidow,
Ven she hands das lager round,
Vill make der shap dat does id
Pe happy, ve'll be pound.
Dat ish if we can vell pelieve
De glerks vat drinks das beer,
Who goes in dere for noding elshe,
Put simply for to zee her.


II.

HOW DER BREITMANN CUT HIM OUT.

Oh yes I know die wittwe,
Mit eyes so prite und proun!
She's de allerschœnste wittwe
Vot live in dis here down.
In her plack silk gown - mine grashious!-
All puttoned to de neck-
Und a pooty liddle collar,
Mitout a shpot or shpeck.
Ho! clear de drack you oder fraus-
You can't pegin to shine
Vhen de lofely vidder cooms along-
Dis vidder ash ish mine!
Ho! clear de drack you Yankee chaps,
You Englishers und sooch,
You can't pegin to coot me out,
Mitout you dalks in Dootch.
Ich hab die schœne wittwe
Schon lange nit gesehn,
Ich sah sie gestern Abend
Wohl bei dem Counter Stehn.
Die Wangen rein wie Milch and Blut
Die Augen hell und klar.
Ich hab sie sechsmal auch geküsst-
Potztausend! das ist wahr.[10]


BREITMANN IN BATTLE

"TUNC TAPFRE AUSFUHRERE STREITUM ET RITTRIS DIGNUM POTUERE
ERIAGERE
LOBUM."

"Hiltibraht enti Hadubrant."

DER FADER UND DER SON.[11]

I DINKS I'll go a vightin'" - outshpoke der Breitemann.
"It's eighdeen hoonderd fordy-eight since I kits swordt in hand;
Dese fourdeen years mit Hecker all roostin' I haf been,
Boot now I kicks der Teufel oop and goes for sailin' in."

"If you go land out-ridin'," said Caspar Pickletongue,
"Foost ding you knows you cooms across some repels prave and
young.
Away down Sout' in Tixey, dey'll split you like a clam"-
"For dat," spoke out der Breitmann, "I doos not gare one tam!

"Who der Teufel pe's de repels, und vhere dey kits deir sass?
If dey make a run on Breitmann he'll soon let out de gas;
I'll shplit dem like kartoffels; I'll schlog em on de kop;
I'll set de plackguarts roonin' so, dey don't know vhere to
shtop."

Und de outshpoke der Breitmann, mit his schlaeger py his side:
"Forvarts, my pully landsmen! it's dime to run and ride;
Vill riden, vill vighten - der Copitain I'll pe,
It's sporn und horn und saddle now - all in de Cavallrie!"

Und ash dey rode droo Vinchesder, so herrlich to be seen,
Dere coomed some repel cavallrie a riden' on de creen;
Mit a sassy repel Dootchman - an colonel in gommand,
Says he, "Vot Teufel makes you here in dis mein Faderland?

"You're dressed oop like a shentleman mit your
plackguart Yankee crew,
You mudsills and meganics! Der Teufel put you droo!
Old Yank, you ought to shtay at home und dake your liddle horn,
Mit some oldt voomans for a noorse" - der Breitmann
laugh mit shkorn.

"Und should I trink mein lager beer und roost mine self to home?
I'fe got too many dings like you to mash beneat' my thoom:
In many a fray und fierce foray dis Dootchman will be feared
Pefore he stops dis vightin' trade - 'twas dere he grayed
his peard."

"I pools dat peard out py de roots - I gifes him such a dwist
Dill all de plood roons out, you tamned old Apolitionist!
You creenpacks mit your swordt und vatch, right ofer
you moost shell,
Und den you goes to Libby stright - und after dat to h-ll!"

"Mein creenpacks and mein schlaeger, I kits 'em in New York,
To gife dem up to creenhorns, young man, is not de talk;"
De heroes shtopped deir sassin' here und grossed deir sabres
dwice,
Und de vay dese Deutschers vent to vork vos von pig ding on ice.

Der younger fetch de older such a gottallmachty shmack
Der Breitmann dinks he really hears his skool go shplit and
crack;
Der repel shoomps dwelfe paces back, und so he safe his life:
Der Breitmann says: "I guess dem shoomps, you
learns dem of your vife."

"If I should learn of vomans I dinks it vere a shame,
Bei Gott I am a shentleman, aristograt, and game.
My fader vos anoder - I lose him fery young-
Der Teufel take your soul! Coom on! I'll split your
vaggin' tongue!"

A Yankee drick der Breitmann dried - dat oldt gray-pearded man-
For ash the repel raised his swordt, beneat' dat sword he ran.
All round der shlim yoong repels vaist his arms oldt
Breitmann pound,
Und shlinged him down oopon his pack and laidt him on der ground.

"Who rubs against olt kittle-pots may keep vhite - if he can,
Say vot you dinks of vightin' now mit dis oldt shentleman?
Your dime is oop; you got to die, und I your breest vill pe;
Peliev'st dou in Morál Ideas? If so, I lets you
free."[12]

"I don't know nix apout ideas - no more dan 'pout Saint Paul,
Since I'fe peen down in Tixey I kits no books at all;
I'm greener ash de clofer-grass; I'm shtupid as a shpoon;
I'm ignoranter ash de nigs - for dey takes de Tribune.

"Mein fader's name vas Breitmann, I heard mein mutter say,
She read de bapers dat he died after she rooned afay;
Dey say he leaf some broperty - berhaps 'tvas all a sell-
If I could lay mein hands on it I likes it mighty vell."

"Und vas dy fader Breitmann? Bist du his kit and kin?
Denn know dat ich der Breitmann dein lieber Vater bin?"
Der Breitmann poolled his hand-shoe off und shooked him py de
hand;
"Ve'll hafe some trinks on strengt' of dis - or else may
I be tam'd!"

"Oh! fader, how I shlog your kop," der younger Breitmann said;
"I'd den dimes sooner had it coom right down on mein own headt!"
"Oh, never mind - dat soon dry oop - I shticks him mit a blaster;
If I had shplit you like a fish, dat vere an vorse tisasder."

Dis fight did last all afternoon - wohl to de fesper tide,
Und droo de streets of Vinchesder, der Breitmann he did ride.
Vot vears der Breitmann on his hat? De ploom of fictory!
Who's dat a ridin' py his side? "Dis here's mein son," says he.

How stately rode der Breitmann oop! - how lordly he kit down!
How glorious from de great pokal he drink de beer so
prown!
But der Younger bick der parrel oop und schwig him all at one.
"Bei Gott! dat settles all his dings - I know dou art mein
son!"

Der one has got a fader; de oder found a child.
Bofe ride oopon one war-path now in pattle fierce und vild.
It makes so glad our hearts to hear dat dey did so succeed-
Und damit hat sein Ende DES JUNGEN BREITMANN'S LIED.


BREITMANN IN MARYLAND.

DER BREITMANN mit his gompany
Rode out in Marylandt.
"Dere's nix to trink in dis countrie;
ine droat's as dry as sand.
It's light canteen und haversack,
It's hoonger mixed mit doorst;
Und if ve had some lager beer
I'd trink oontil I boorst.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Ve'd trink oontil ve boorst.[13]

Herr Leut'nant, take a dozen men,
Und ride dis land around!
Herr Feldwebel, go foragin'
Dill somedings goot is found.
Gotts-donder! men, go ploonder!
Ve hafn't trinked a bit
Dis fourdeen hours! If I had beer
I'd sauf oontil I shplit!
Gling, glang, gloria!
Ve'd sauf oontil ve shplit!"

At mitternacht a horse's hoofs
Coom rattlin' droo de camp;
"Rouse dere! - coom rouse der house dere!
Herr Copitain - ve moost tromp!
De scouds have found a repel town,
Mit repel davern near,
A repel keller in de cround,
Mit repel lager beer!!
Gling, glang, gloria!
All fool of lager beer!"

Gottsdonnerkreuzschockschwerenoth!
How Breitmann broked de bush!
"O let me see dat lager beer!
O let me at him rush!
Und is mein sabre sharp und true,
Und is mein var-horse goot?
To get one quart of lager beer
I'd shpill a sea of ploot.
Gling, glang, gloria!
I'd shpill a sea of ploot.

"Fuenf hoonderd repels hold de down,
One hoonderd strong are ve;
Who gares a tam for all de odds
Vhen men so dirsty pe."
And in dey smashed and down dey crashed,
Like donder-polts dey fly,
Rash fort as der vild yæger cooms
Mit blitzen droo de shky.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Like blitzen droo de shky.

How flewed to rite, how flewed to left
De moundains, drees, und hedge;
How left und rite de yæger corps
Vent donderin' droo de pridge.
Und splash und splosh dey ford de shtream
Vhere not some pridges pe:
All dripplin' in de moondlight peam
Stracks vent de Cavallrie.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Der Breitmann's cavallrie.

Und hoory, hoory, on dey rote,
Oonheedin' vet or try;
Und horse und rider shnort and blowed
Und shparklin' bepples fly.
Ropp! Ropp! I shmell de parley-prew!
Dere's somedings goot ish near.
Ropp! Ropp! - I scent de kneiperei;
Ve've got to lager beer!
Gling, glang, gloria!
Ve've got to lager beer!

Hei! how de carpine pullets klinged
Oopon de helmets hart!
Oh, Breitmann - how dy sabre ringed;
Du alter Knasterbart!
De contrapands dey sing for shoy
To see de rebs go down,
Und hear der Breitmann grimly gry:
Hoorah! - ve've dook de down.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Victoria, victoria!
De Dootch have dook de down.

Mid shout and crash and sabre flash,
And vild husaren shout
De Dootchmen boorst de keller in,
Und rolled de lager out;
Und in de coorlin' powder shmoke,
Vhile shtill de pullets sung,
Dere shtood der Breitmann, axe in hand,
A knockin' out de boong.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Victoria! Encoria!
De shpicket beats de boong.

Gotts! vot a shpree der Breitmann had
Vhile yet his hand was red,
A trinkin' lager from his poots
Among de repel tead.[14]
"Tvas dus dey vent at mitternight
Along der moundain side;
'Tvas dus dey help make history!
Dis vas der Breitmann's ride.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Victoria! Victoria!
Cer'visia, encoria!
De treadful mitnight ride
Of Breitmann's vild Freischarlinger,
All famous, broad, und vide.


BREITMANN AS A BUMMER

DER SHENERAL SHERMAN holts oop on his coorse,
He shtops at de gross-road und reins in his horse.
"Dere's a ford on de rifer dis day we moost dake,
Or elshe de grand army in bieces shall preak!"
Vhen shoost ash dis vord from his lips had gone bast,
There coomed a young orterly gallopin' fast,
Who gry mit amazement: "Herr Shen'ral! Goot Lord!
Dat Bummer der Breitmann ish holdin' der ford!"

Der Shen'ral he ootered no hymn und no psalm,
But opened his lips und he priefly say "D - n!
Dere moost hafe been viskey on dat side der rifer;
To get it dose shaps vould set hell in a shiver;
But now dat dey hold it, ride quick to deir aid:
Ho, Sickles! move promp'ly, send down a prigade!
Dat Dootchman moost vork mighty hard mit his sword
If againsd a whole army he holds to de ford."

Dey spoored on, dey hoory'd on, gallopin' shtraight,
But for Breitmann help coomed shoost a liddle too late,
For as de Lauwiné goes smash mit her pound,
So on to de Bummers de repels coom down:
Heinrich von Schinkenstein's tead in de road,
Dieterich Hinkelbein's flat as a toad;
Und Sepperl - Tyroler - shpoke nefer a vord,
But shoost "Mutter Gottes!" und died in de ford.

Itsch'l of Innspruck ish drilled droo de hair,
Einer aus Böblingen[15] - he too vash dere-
Karli of Karlisruh's shot near de fence
(His horse vash o'erloadet mit toorkies und hens),
Und dough he like a ravin' mad cannibal fought
Yet der Breitmann - der capt'n - der hero vash caught;
Und de last dings ve saw, he vas tied mit a cord,
For de repels had goppled him oop at de ford.

Dey shtripped off his goat und skyugled his poots
Dey dressed him mit rags of a repel recruits;
But von gray-haared oldt veller shmiled crimly und bet
Dat Breitmann vouldt be a pad egg for dem yet.
"He has more on his pipe[16] as dem vellers allows,
He has cardts yet in hand und das Spiel ist nicht aus,
Dey'll find dat dey took in der Teufel to board,
De day dey pooled Breitmann vell ofer de ford."

In de Bowery each beer-haus mit crape vas oopdone,
Vhen dey read in de papers dat Breitmann vas gone;
Und de Dootch all cot troonk oopon lager und wein,
At the great Trauer-fest of de Turner Verein.
Dere vas wein - en mit weinen ven beoplesh did dink
Dat Sherman's great Sharman cood nefer more trink.
Und in Villiam Shtreet veepin' und vailen' vas hoor'd,
Pecause der Hans Breitmann vas lost at de ford.

SECOND PART.

In dulce jubilo now ve all sings,
A-vaifin' de panners like efery dings.
De preeze droo de bine-trees ish cooler und salt,
Und der Shen'ral is merry venefer ve halt;
Loosty und merry he schmells at de preeze,
Lustig und heiter he looks droo de drees,
Lustig und heiter ash vell he may pe,
For Sherman, at last has marched down to the sea.

Dere's a gry from de guart - dere's a clotter und dramp,
Vhen dat fery same orterly rides droo de camp
Who report on de ford. Dere ish droples and awe
In de face of de youf' apout somedings he saw;
Und he shpeak me in Fræntsch, like he always do: "Look!
Sagre pleu! Fentre Tieu! - dere ish Breitmann - his
spook!
He ish goming dis vay! Nom de Garce![17] can it pe
Dat de spooks of de tead men coom down to de sea!"

Und he looks, und ve sees, und ve tremples mit tread,
For risin' all swart on de efenin' red
Vas Johannes - der Breitmann - der war es, bei Gott!
Coom riding' to oos-vard, right shtraight to de shpot!
All mouse-still ve shtood, yet mit oop-shoompin' hearts,
For he look shoost so pig as de shiant of de Hartz;
Und I heard de Sout Deutschers say "Ave Morie!
Braise Gott all goot shpirids py land und by sea!"

Boot Itzig of Frankfort he lift oop his nose,
Und be-mark dat de shpook hat peen changin' his clothes,
For he seemed like an Generalissimus drest
In a vlamin' new coat und magnificent vest.
Six bistols beschlagen mit silber he vore,
Und a cold mounded swordt like a Kaisar he bore,
Und ve dinks dat de ghosdt - or votever he pe-
Moost hafe proken some panks on his vay to de sea.

"Id is he!""Und er lebt noch!" he lifes ve all say:
"Der Breitmann - Oldt Breitmann! - Hans Breitmann! Herr
Je!"
Und ve roosh to emprace him, und shtill more ve find
Dat vherefer he'd peen, he'd left noding pehine.
In bofe of his poots dere vas porte-moneys crammed,
Mit creen-packs stoof full all his haversack jammed,
In his bockets cold dollars vere shinglin' deir doons
Mit dwo doozen votches und four dozen shpoons,
Und dwo silber tea-pods for makin' his dea,
Der ghosdt hafe pring mit him, en route to de sea.

Mit goot sweed-botatoes, und doorkies, und rice,
Ve makes him a sooper of efery dings nice.
Und de bummers hoont roundt apout, alle wie ein,
Dill dey findt a plantaschion mit parrels of wein.
Den t'vas "Here's to you, Breitmann! Alt Schwed"[18] - bist
zurück?
Vot teufels you makes since dis fourteen nights veek?"
Und ve holds von shtupendous and derriple shpree
For shoy dat der Breitmann has got to de sea.

But in fain tid we ashk vhere der Breitmann hat peen,
Vot he tid; vot he pass droo - or vot he might seen?
Vhere he kits his vine horse, or who gafe him dem woons,
Und how Brovidence plessed him mit tea-pods und shpoons?
For to all of dem queeries he only reblies,
"If you dells me no quesdions, I ashks you no lies!"
So 'twas glear dat some derriple mysh'dry moost pe
Vhere he kits all dat ploonder he prings to de sea.

Dere ish bapers in Richmond dells derriple lies
How Sherman's grand armee hafe raise deir sooplies:
For ve readt in brindt dat der Sheneral Grant
Say de bummers hafe only shoost take vat dey vant.
But 'tis vhispered dat vhile a refolfer'll go round
Der BREITMANN vill nefer a peggin' be found;
Or shtarvin' ash brisner - by doonder! - not he,
Vhile der Teufel could help him to ged to de sea.


BREITMANN'S GOING TO CHURCH.

"Vides igitur, Collega carissime, visitationem canonicam esse rem
haud ita periculosam, sed valde amoenam, si modo vinum, groggio
et
cibi praesto sunt."
- Novissimae Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum, Berolini F.
Berggold, 1869. Epistola xxiii., p. 63.

D'VAS near de state of Nashfille,
In de town of Tennessee,
Der Breitmann vonce vas quarderd
Mit all his cavallrie.
Der Sheneral kept him glose in gamp,
He vouldn't let dem go;
Dey couldn't shdeal de first plack hen,
Or make de red cock crow.

Und virst der Breitmann vildly shmiled,
Und denn he madly shvore;
"Crate h - l, mit shpoons und shinsherbread,
Can dis pe makin war?
Verdammt pe all der discipline!
Verdammt der Shenerál!
Vere I vonce on de road, his will,
Vere wurst mir und egâl. [19]

"Oh vhere ish all de plazin roofs
Dat claddened vonce mine eyes?
Und vhere de crand plantaschions
Vhere ve gaddered many a brize?
Und vhere de plasted shpies ve hung
A howlin loud mit fear?
Und vhere de rascal push-whackers
Ve shashed like vritened deer?

"De roofs are shtandin fast and firm
Mit repels blottin oonder;
De crand blantaschions lie round loose
For Morgan's men to ploonder!
De shpies go valkin out und in,
Ash sassy ash can pe;
Und in de voods de push-whackers
Are makin foon of me!

"Oh vere I on my schimmel grey
Mein sabre in mein hand,
Dey should drack me py de ruins
Of de houses troo de land.
Dey should drack me py de puzzards
High sailen ofer head,
A vollowin der Breitmann's trail
To claw de repel dead."

Outspoke der bold Von Stossenheim,
Who had théories of Gott:
"O Breitmann, dis ish shoodgement on
De vays dat you hafe trot.
You only lifes to joy yourself,
Yet you, yourself moost say,
Dat self-defelopment requires
De réligiös Idée."

Dey sat dem down and argued id,
Like Deutschers vree from fear,
Dill dey schmoke ten pounds of knaster,
Und drinked drei fass of bier.
Der Breitmann go py Schopenhauer,
Boot Veit he had him denn;
For he dook him on de angles
Of de moral oxygen.

Der Breitmann 'low, dat 'pentence,
Ish known in efery glime,
Und dat to grin und bear it
Vas healty und soopline.
"For mine Sout German Catolicks,
Id vas pe goot, I know;
Likevise dem Nordland Luterans,
If vonce to shoorsh dey go.

"Boot how vas id mit oders
Who dinks philosophie?
I don't begreif de matter,"
Said Stossenheim: "Denn see.
De more dat shoorsh disgoostet you,
Und make despise und bain,
De crater merid ish to go,
Und de crater ish your gain.

"I know a liddle shoorsh mineself,
Oopon de Bole Jack road:
(De rebs vonce shot dree Federals dere,
Ash into shoorsh dey goed.)
Dere you might make a bilcrimage,
Und do id in a tay:
Gott only knows vot dings you mighdt
Bick oop, oopon de vay."

Denn oop dere shpoke a contrapand,
Vas at de tent id's toor-
"Dere's twenty bar'ls of whiskey, hid,
In dat tabernacle, shore.
A rebel he done gone and put
It in de cellar, true,
No libin man dat secret knows,
'Cept only me an' you."

Der Stossenheim, he grossed himself,
Und knelt peside de fence,
Und gried: "O Coptain Breitmannn, see,
Die finger Providence."
Der Breitmann droed his hat afay,
Says he, "Pe't hit or miss,
I'fe heard of miragles pefore,
Boot none so hunk ash dis."

"Wohlauf mine pully cafaliers,
Ve'll ride to shoorsh to-day,
Each man ash hasn't cot a horse
Moost shteal von, rite afay.
Dere's a raw, green corps from Michigan,
Mit horses on de loose,
You men ash vants some hoof-irons,
Look out and crip deir shoes."

All brooshed und fixed, de cavallrie,
Rode out py moonen shine,
De cotton fields in shimmerin light,
Lay white as elfenbein.
Dey heard a shot close py Lavergne,
Und men who rode afay,
In de road a-velterin his his ploot,
A Federal picket lay.

Und all dat he hafe dimes to say,
"Vhile shtandin at my post,
De guerillas got first shot at me,"
Und so gafe oop de ghost.
Denn a contrapand, who helt his head,
Said: "Sah - dose grillers all
Is only half a mile from hy'ar,
A dancin at a ball."

Der Breitmann shpoke and brummed it out
Ash if his heart tid schvell:
"I'll gife dem music at dat pall
Vill tantz dem into hell."
Hei! - arrow-fast - a teufel's ride!
De plack man led de vay,
Dey reach de house - dey see de lights-
Dey heard de fiddle blay.

Dey nefer vaited for a word
Boot galloped from de gloom,
Und, bang! - a hoonderd carpine shots
Dey fired indo de room.
Oop vent de groans of vounded men,
De fittlin died away:
Boot some of dem vere tead pefore
De music ceased to blay.

Denn crack und smack coom scotterin shots
Troo vindow und troo door,
Boot bang and clang de Germans gife
Anoder volley more.
"Dere - let 'em shlide. Right file to shoorsh!"
Aloudt de orders ran.
"I kess I paid dem for dat shot,"
Shpeak grim der Breitemann.

All rosen red de mornin fair
Shone gaily o'er de hill,
A violet plue de shky crew teep
In rifer, pond, und rill;
All cloudy grey de limeshtone rocks
Coom oop troo dimmerin wood;
All shnowy vite in mornin light
De shoorsh pefore dem shtood.

"Now loudet vell de organ, oop,
To drill mit solemn fear;
Und ring also dat Lumpenglock
To pring de beoples here.
Und if it prings guerillas down,
Ve'll gife dem, py de Lord,
De low-mass of de sabre, and
De high-mass of de cord.[20]

"Du, Eberlé aus Freiburg,
Du bist ein Musikant,
Top-sawyer on de counterpoint
Und buster in discánt,
To dee de soul of musik
All innerly ish known,
Du canst mit might fullenden
De art of orgel-ton.

"Derefore, a Miserére
Vill dou, be-ghostet, spiel,
Und vake be-raiséd, yearnin,
Also a holy feel:-
Pe referent, men - rememper
Dis ish a Gotteshaus-
Du Conrad - go along de aisles
Und schenk de whiskey aus!:

Dey blay crate dings from Mozart,
Beethoven, und Méhul
Mit chorals of Sebastian Bach
Soopline und peaudiful.
Der Breitmann feel like holy saints,
De tears roon down his fuss;
Und he sopped out, "got verdammich - dis
Ist wahres Kunstgenuss!"[21]

Der Eberlé blayed oop so high,
He maket de rafters ring;
Der Eberlé blayed lower, und
Ve heardt der Breitmann sing
Like a dronin wind in piney woods
Like a nightly moanin sea:
Ash de dinked on Sonntags long agone
Vhen a poy in Germany.

Und louder und mit louder tone
High oop de orgel blowed,
Und plentifuller efer yet
Around de whiskey goed.
Dey singed ash if mit singin, dey
Might indo Himmel win:-
I dink in all dis land soosh shprees
Ash yet hafe nefer peen.

Vhen in de Abendsonnenschein,
Mit doost-clouds troo de door,
All plack ash night in golden lighdt
Der shtood ein schwartzer Mohr,
Dat contrapand so wild und weh,
Mit eye-palls glaring roun,
Who cried "For Gott's sake, hoory oop!
De reps ish gomin down!"


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Online LibraryCharles Godfrey LelandThe Breitmann Ballads → online text (page 4 of 13)