The Breitmann Ballads

"HANS BREITMANN GIFE A BARTY" - the first of the poems here submitted to the English public - appeared originally in 1857, in Graham's Magazine, in Philadelphia, and soon became widely known. Few American poems, indeed, have been held in better or more constant remembrance than the ballad of "Hans Breitmann's Barty;" for the words just quoted have actually passed into a proverbial expression. The other ballads of the present collection, likewise published in several newspapers, were first collected in 1869 by Mr. Leland, the translator of Heine's "Pictures of Travel" and "Book of Songs," and author of Meister Karl's Sketch -Book," Philadelphia, 1856 and "Sunshine in Thought," New York, 1863. They are much of the same character as "The Barty" - most of them celebrating the martial career of "Hans Breitmann," whose prototype was a German, serving during the war in the 15th Pennsylvanian cavalry, and who - we have it on good authority - was a man of desperate courage whenever a cent could be made, and one who never fought unless something could be made. The "rebs" "gobbled" him one day; but he re-appeared in three weeks overloaded with money and valuables. One of the American critics remarks: - "Throughout all the ballads it is the same figure presented - an honest 'Deutscher,' drunk with the New World as with new wine, and rioting in the expression of purely Deutsch nature and half-Deutsch ideas through a strange speech."

1

The poems are written in the dull broken English (not to be confounded with the Pennsylvanian German) spoken by millions of - mostly uneducated - Germans in America, immigrants to a great extent from southern Germany. Their English has not yet become a distinct dialect; and it would even be difficult to fix at present the varieties in which it occurs. One of its prominent peculiarities, however, is easily perceived: it consists in the constant confounding of the soft and hard consonants; and the reader must well bear it in mind when translating the language that meets his eye into one to become intelligible to his ear. Thus to the German of our poet, kiss becomes giss; company - gompany; care - gare; count - gount; corner - gorner; till - dill; terrible - derrible; time - dime; mountain - moundain; thing - ding; through - droo; the - de; themselves - demselves; other - oder; party - barty; place - blace; pig - big; priest - breest; piano - biano; plaster - blaster; fine - vine; fighting - vighting; fellow - veller; or, vice versa, he sounds got - cot; green - creen; great - crate; gold dollars - cold tollars; dam - tam; dreadful - treadful; drunk - troonk; brown - prown; blood - ploot; bridge - pridge; barrel - parrel; boot - poot; begging - peggin'; blackguard - plackguart; rebel - repel;

2

never - nefer; river - rifer; very - fery; give - gife; victory - fictory; evening - efening; revive - refife; jump - shoomp; join - choin; joy - choy; just - shoost; joke - choke; jingling - shingling;, &c.; or, through a kindred change, both - bofe; youth - youf; but mouth - mout'; earth - eart'; south - sout'; waiting - vaiten;' was - vas; widow - vidow; woman - voman; work - vork; one - von; we - ve, &c. And hence, by way of a compound mixture, we get from him drafel for travel, derriple for terrible, a daple-leck for a table-leg, bepples for pebbles, tisasder for disaster, schimnastig dricks for gymnastic tricks, let-bencil for lead-pencil, &c. The peculiarity of Germans pronouncing in their mother tongue s like sh when it is followed by a t or p, and of Germans in southern Germany often also final s like sh, naturally produced in their American jargon such results as shplit, shtop, shtraight, shtar, shtupendous, shpree, shpirit, &c; ish(is), ash(as), &c.; and, by analogy led to shveet(sweet), schwig(swig), &c. We need not notice, however, more than these freaks of the German-American-English of the present poems, as little as we need advert to simple vulgarisms also met with in England, such as the omission of the final g in words terminating in ing (blayin' - playing; shpinnen' - spinning; ridin', sailin', roonin', &c.). We must, of course, assume that the reader of this little volume is well acquainted both with English and German.

3

The reader will perceive that the writer has taken another flight in "Hans Breitmann's Christmas," and many of the later ballads, from what he did in those preceding; and exception might be taken to his choice of subjects, and treatment of them, if the language employed by him were a fixed dialect - that is, a language arrested at a certain stage of its progress; for in that case he would have had to subordinate his pictures to the narrow sphere of the realistic incidents of a given locality. But the imperfect English utterances of the German, newly arrived in America, that, in proportion to his intelligence, his opportunities, and the length of time spent by him among his new English-speaking countrymen, he will sooner or later rid himself of the crudenesses of his speech, thus preventing it from becoming fixed. Many of the Germans who have emigrated and are still emigrating to America belong to the well-educated classes, and some possess a very high culture. Our poet has therefore presented his typical German, with perfect propriety, in a variety of situations which would be imperceptible within which the the dialect necessarily moves, and has endowed him with character, even where the local colour is wanting.

4

In "Breitmann in Politics," we are on purely American ground.
In it the Germans convince themselves that, as their hero can no longer plunder the rebels, he ought to plunder the nation, and they resolve on getting him elected to the State Legislature. They accordingly form a committee, and formulate for their candidate six "moral ideas" as his platform. These they show to their Yankee helper, Hiram Twine, who, having changed his politics fifteen times, and managed several elections, knows how matters should be handled. He says the moral ideas are very fine, but not worth a "dern;" and instead of them proclaims the true cry,
that Breitmann is sound upon the goose, about which he tells a story. Then it is reported that the German cannot win, and that, as he is a soldier, he has been sent into the political field only to lead the forlorn hope and get beaten. In answer to this, Twine starts the report that Smith has sold the fight to Breitmann, a notion which the Americans take to at once -
"For dey mostly dinked id de naturalest ding as efer couldt pefall For to sheat von's own gonstituents is de pest mofe in de came, Und dey nefer sooposed a Dootchman hafe de sense to do de same."

5

Accordingly, Breitmann calls a meeting of Smith's supporters, tells them that he hopes to get a good place for his friend Smith, though he cannot approve of Smith's teetotal principles, because he, Breitmann, is a republican, and the meaning of that word is plain: - "... If any enlightened man vill seeken in his Bibel, he will find dat a publican is a barty ash sells lager; und de ding is very blain, dat a re-publican ish von who sells id 'gain und 'gain." Moreover, Smith believes in God, and goes to church, - what liberal German can stand this? - while Breitmann, being a publican, must be a sinner. As to parties, the principles of both are the same - plunder - and "any man who gifes me his fote, - votefer his boledics pe, - shall alfays pe regardet ash bolidigal friendt py me."
This brings the house down.
And when Breitmann announces that he sells the best beer in the city, and stands drinks gratis to his "bolidigal friendts," and orders in twelve barrels of lager for the meeting, he is unanimously voted "a brickbat, and no sardine."
After this brilliant success, the author is obliged to pause, in order to proclaim the intellectual superiority of Germans to the whole world. He gets tremendously be-fogged in the process, but that is no matter -
- "Ash der Hegel say of his system,' Dat only von mans knew
- Vot der tyfel id meant; and 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 weiss vot das buch means now, for I hafe forgotten it!'"

6

But, taking the point as proved, our German still allows that the Yankees have some sharp-pointed sense, which he illustrates by narrating how Hiram Twine turned a village of Smith-voters into the Breitmann camp. The village is German and Democrat. Smith has forgotten his meeting, and Twine, who is very like Smith, and rides into the village to watch the meeting, is taken by the Germans for Smith. On this, Twine resolves to personate Smith, and give his supporters a dose of him. Accordingly, on being asked to drink, he tells the Germans that none but hogs would drink their stinking beer, and that German wine was only made for German swine. Then he goes to the meeting, and, having wounded their feelings in the tenderest point, - the love of beer, - attacks the next tenderest, - their love for their language, - by declaring that he will vote for preventing the speaking of it all through the States; and winds up by exhorting them to stop guzzling beer and smoking pipes, and set to work to un-Germanise themselves as soon as possible. On this "dere coomed a shindy," with cries of "Shoot him with a bowie-knife," and "Tar and feather him." A revolver-ball cuts the chandelier-cord; all is dark; and amidst the row, Twine escapes and gallops off, with some pistol-balls after him. But the village votes for Breitmann, and be "licks der Schmit."

7

The ballad, "Breitmann's Going to Church," is based on a real occurrence. A certain colonel, with his men, did really, during the war, go to a church in or near Nashville, and, as the saying is, "kicked up the devil, and broke things," to such an extent, that a serious reprimand from the colonel's superior officer was the result. The fact is guaranteed by Mr. Leland, who heard the offender complain of the "cruel and heartless stretch of military authority." As regards the firing into the guerilla ball-room, on the night of Feb. 10 or 11, 1865; and on the next day, Mr. Leland was at a house where one of the wounded lay. it took place near Murfreesboro', On the same night a Federal picket was shot dead near Lavergne; and the next night a detachment of cavalry was sent off from General Van Cleve's quarters, the officer in command coming in while the author was talking with the general, for final orders. They rode twenty miles that night, attacked a body of guerillas, captured a number, and brought back prisoners early next day. The same day Mr. Leland, with a small cavalry escort, and a few friends, went out into the country, during which ride one or two curious incidents occurred, illustrating the extraordinary fidelity of the blacks to Federal soldiers.

8

The explanation of the poem entitled, "The First Edition of Breitmann," is as follows: - It was not long after the war that a friend of the writer's to whom "the Breitmann Ballads" had been sent in MSS., and who had frequently urged the former to have them published, resolved to secure, at least, a small private edition, though at his own expense. Unfortunately the printers quarrelled about the MSS., and, as the writer understood, the entire concern broke up in a row in consequence. And, in fact, when we reflect on the amount of fierce attack and recrimination we reflect this unpretending and peaceful little volume elicited after the appearance of the fifth English edition, and the injury which it sustained from garbled and falsified editions, in not less than three unauthorised reprints, it would really seem as if this first edition, which "died a borning," had been typical of the stormy path to which the work was predestined.
"I Gili Romaneskro," a gipsy ballad, was written both in the original and translation - that is to say, in the German gipsy and German English dialects - to cast a new light on the many-sided Bohemianism of Herr Breitmann.

9

The readers of more than one English newspaper will recall that the idea of representing Breitmann as an Uhlan, scouting over France, and frequently laying houses and even cities under heavy contribution, has occurred to very many of "Our Own." A spirited correspondent of the Telegraph, and others of literary fame, have familiarly referred to the Uhlan as Breitmann, indicating that the German-American free-lance has grown into a type; and more than one newspaper, anticipating this volume, has published Anglo-German poems referring to Hans Breitmann and the Prussian-French war. In several pamphlets written in Anglo-German rhymes, which appeared in London in 1871, Breitmann was made the representative type of the war by both the friends and opponents of Prussia, while during February of the same year Hans figured at the same time, and on the same evenings for several weeks, on the stages of three London theatres. So many imitations of these poems were published, and so extensively and familiarly was Mr. Leland's hero spoken of as the exponent of the German cause, that it seemed to a writer at the time as if he had become "as regards Germany what John Bull and Brother Jonathan have long been to England and America." In connection with this remark, the following extract from a letter of the Special Correspondent of the London Daily Telegraph of August 29, 1870, may not be without interest: -

10

"The Prussian Uhlan of 1870 seems destined to fill in French legendary chronicle the place which, during the invasions of 1814 - 15, was occupied by the Cossack. He is a great traveller. Nancy, Bar-le-Duc, Commercy, Rheims, Chalons, St. Dizier, Chaumont, have all heard of him. The Uhlan makes himself quite at home, and drops in, entirely in a friendly way, on mayors and corporations, asking not only himself to dinner, but an indefinite number of additional Uhlans, who, he says, may be expected hourly. The Uhlan wears a blue uniform turned up with yellow, and to the end of his lance is affixed a streamer intimately resembling a very dirty white pocket-handkerchief. Sometimes he hunts in couples, sometimes he goes in threes, and sometimes in fives. When he lights upon a village, he holds it to ransom; when he comes upon a city, he captures it, making it literally the prisoner of his bow and his spear. A writer in Blackwood's Magazine once drove the people of Lancashire to madness by declaring that, in the Rebellion of 1745, Manchester 'was taken by a Scots sergeant and a wench;' but it is a notorious fact that Nancy submitted without a murmur to five Uhlans, and that Bar-le-Duc was occupied by two. When the Uhlan arrives in a conquered city, he visits the mayor, and makes his usual inordinate demands for meat, drink, and cigars. If his demands are acceded to, he accepts everything with a grin.

11

If he is refused, he remarks, likewise with a grin, that he will come again to-morrow with three thousand light horsemen, and he gallops away; but in many cases he does not return. The secret of the fellow's success lies mainly in his unblushing impudence, his easy mendacity, and that intimate knowledge of every highway and byway of the country which, thanks to the military organisation of the Prussian army, he has acquired in the regimental school. He gives himself out to be the precursor of an imminently advancing army, when, after all, he is only a boldly adventurous free-lance, who has ridden thirty miles across country on the chance of picking up something in the way of information or victuals. Only one more touch is needed to complete the portrait of the Uhlan. His veritable name would seem to be Hans Breitmann, and his vocation that of a 'bummer;' and Breitmann, we learn from the preface to Mr. Leland's wonderful ballad, had a prototype in a regiment of Pennsylvanian cavalry by the name of Jost, whose proficiency in 'bumming,' otherwise 'looting,' in swearing, fighting, and drinking lager beer, raised him to a pitch of glory on the Federal side which excited at once the envy and the admiration of the boldest bush-whackers and the gauntest guerillas in the Confederate host."

12

The present edition embraces all the Breitmann poems which have as yet appeared; and the publisher trusts that in their collected form they will be found much more attractive than in scattered volumes. Many new lyrics, illustrating the hero's travels in Europe, have been added, and these, it is believed, are not inferior to their predecessors.

13

N. TRÜBNER.

The Breitmann Ballads.

HANS BREITMANN'S BARTY.
(Index)

HANS BREITMANN gife a barty;
Dey had biano-blayin',
I felled in lofe mit a Merican frau,
Her name vas Madilda Yane.
She hat haar as prown ash a pretzel,
Her eyes vas himmel-plue,
Und vhen dey looket indo mine,
Dey shplit mine heart in dwo.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty,
I vent dere you'll pe pound;
I valtzet mit Matilda Yane,
Und vent shpinnen' round und round.
De pootiest Fraulein in de house,
She vayed 'pout dwo hoondred pound,
Und efery dime she gife a shoomp
She make de vindows sound.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty,
I dells you it cost him dear;
Dey rolled in more ash sefen kecks
Of foost-rate lager beer.
Und vhenefer dey knocks de shpicket in
De deutschers gifes a cheer;
I dinks dot so vine a barty
Nefer coom to a het dis year.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty;
Dere all vas Souse and Brouse,
Vhen de sooper comed in, de gompany
Did make demselfs to house;
Dey ate das Brot and Gensy broost,
De Bratwurst and Braten vine,
Und vash der Abendessen down
Mit four parrels of Neckarwein.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty;
Ve all cot troonk ash bigs.
I poot mine mout' to a parrel of beer,
Und emptied it oop mit a schwigs;
Und den I gissed Madilda Yane,
Und she shlog me on de kop,
Und de gompany vighted mit daple-lecks
Dill de coonshtable made oos shtop.

Hans Breitmann gife a barty --
Vhere ish dot barty now?
Vhere ish de lofely golden cloud
Dot float on de moundain's prow?
Vhere ish de himmelstrahlende stern --
De shtar of de shpirit's light?
All goned afay mit de lager beer --
Afay in de ewigkeit!

BREITMANN AND THE TURNERS
(Index)

HANS BREITMANN shoined de Turners,
Novemper in de fall,
Und dey gifed a boostin' bender
All in de Turner Hall.
Dere coomed de whole Gesangverein
Mit der Liederlich Aepfel Chor,[1]
Und dey blowed on de drooms and stroomed on de fifes
Till dey couldn't refife no more.

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners,
Dey all set oop some shouts,
Dey took'd him into deir Turner Hall,
Und poots him a course of shprouts.
Dey poots him on de barell-hell pars
Und shtands him oop on his head,
Und dey poomps de beer mit an enchine hose
In his mout' dill he's 'pout half tead!

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners;
Dey make shimnastig dricks;
He stoot on de middle of de floor,
Und put oop a fifdy-six.
Und den he drows it to de roof,
Und schwig off a treadful trink:
De veight coom toomple back on his headt,
Und py shinks! he didn't vink!

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners:--
Mein Gott! how dey drinked und shwore;
Dere vas Schwabians und Tyrolers,
Und Bavarians by de score.
Some vellers coomed from de Rheinland,
Und Frankfort-on-de-Main,
Boot dere vas only von Sharman dere,
Und he vas a Holstein Dane.

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners,
Mit a Limpurg' cheese he coom;
Vhen he open de box it schmell so loudt
It knock de musik doomb.
Vhen de Deutschers kit de flavour,
It coorl de haar on deir head;
Boot dere vas dwo Amerigans dere;
Und, py tam! it kilt dem dead!

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners;
De ladies coomed in to see;
Dey poot dem in de blace for de gals,
All in der gal-lerie.
Dey ashk: "Vhere ish der Breitmann?"
Und dey dremple mit awe and fear
Vhen dey see him schwingen' py de toes,
A trinken' lager beer.

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners:
I dells you vot py tam!
Dey sings de great Urbummellied:[2]
De holy Sharman psalm.
Und vhen de kits to de gorus
You ought to hear dem dramp!
It scared der Teufel down below
To hear de Dootchmen stamp.

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners:--
By Donner! it vas grand,
Vhen de whole of dem goes valkin
Und dancin' on deir hand,
Mit deir veet all vavin' in de air,
Gottstausend! vot a dricks!
Dill der Breitmann fall und dey all go down
Shoost like a row of bricks.

Hans Breitmann shoined de Turners,
Dey lay dere in a heap,
And slept dill de early sonnen shine
Come in at de vindow creep;
And de preeze it vake dem from deir dream,
And dey go to kit deir feed:
Here hat dis song an ende --
Das ist DES BREITMANNSLEID.

BALLAD. (Index)
BY HANS BREITMANN.

Der noble Ritter Hugo
Von Schwillensaufenstein,
Rode out mit shper and helmet,
Und he coom to de panks of de Rhine.

Und oop dere rose a meermaid,
Vot hadn't got nodings on,
Und she say, "Oh, Ritter Hugo,
Vhere you goes mit yourself alone?"

And he says, "I rides in de creenwood,
Mit helmet und mit shpeer,
Til I coomes into em Gasthaus,
Und dere I trinks some beer."

Und den outshpoke de maiden
Vot hadn't got nodings on:
"I don't dink mooch of beoplesh
Dat goes mit demselfs alone.

"You'd petter coom down in de wasser,
Vhere dere's heaps of dings to see,
Und hafe a shplendid tinner
Und drafel along mit me.

"Dere you sees de fisch a schwimmin',
Und you catches dem efery von:"--
So sang dis wasser maiden
Vot hadn't got nodings on.

"Dere ish drunks all full mit money
In ships dat vent down of old;
Und you helpsh yourself, by dunder!
To shimmerin' crowns of gold.

"Shoost look at dese shpoons und vatches!
Shoost see dese diamant rings!
Coom down and fill your bockets,
Und I'll giss you like efery dings.

"Vot you vantsh mit your schnapps und lager?
Coom down into der Rhine!
Der ish pottles der Kaiser Charlemagne
Vonce filled mit gold-red wine!"

Dat fetched him - he shtood all shpell pound;
She pooled his coat-tails down,
She drawed him oonder der wasser,
De maiden mit nodings on.

A BALLAD APOUT DE ROWDIES. (Index)

De moon shines ofer de cloudlens,
Und de cloudts plow ofer de sea,
Und I vent to Coney Island,
Und I took mein Schatz mit me.
Mein Schatz, Katrina Bauer,
I gife her mein heart und vortdt;
Boot ve tidn't know vot beoples
De Dampfsschiff hafe cot on poard.

De preeze plowed cool und bleasant,
We looket at de town
Mit sonn-light on de shdeebles,
Und wetter fanes doornin' round.
Ve sat on de deck in a gorner
Und dropled nopody dere,
Vhen all aroundt oos de rowdies
Peginned to plackguard und schvear.

A voman mit a papy
Vos sittin' in de blace;
Von tooket a chew tobacco
Und trowed it indo her vace.
De voman got coonvulshons,
De papy pegin to gry;
Und de rowdies shkreemed out a laffin,
Und saidt dat de fun was "high."

Pimepy ve become some hoonger,
Katrina Bauer und I,
I openet de lit of mine pasket,
Und pringed out a cherry bie.
A cherry kooken mit pretzels,
"How goot!" Katrina said,
Vhen a rowdy snatched it from her,
Und preaked it ofer mine het.

I dells him he pe a plackguart,
I gifed him a biece my mind,
I vouldt saidt it pefore a tousand,
Mit der teufel himself pehind.
Den he knocks me down mit a sloong-shot,
Und peats me plack and plue;
Und de plackguards kick me,
Dill I vainted, und dat ish drue.

De rich American beoples
Don't know how de rowdies shtrike
Der poor hardtworkin' Sharman,
He knows it more ash he like.
If de Deutsche speakers und bapers
Are somedimes too hard on dis land,
Shoost dink how de Deutsch kit driven
Along by de rowdy's hand!

THE PICNIC (Index)

DE picknock oud at Spraker's Wood:-
It melt de soul und fire de plood.
Id sofly slid from cakes und cream;
Boot busted oop on brandy shdeam.

Mit stims of tender graceful ring,
De gals begoon a song to sing;
A bland mildt lied of olden dime-
Deutsch vas die doon, und Deutsch de rhyme.

Wi's uff der Stross' wenn's finschter ischt,
Und niemond in der Goss' mehr ischt,
Nur Schöne Mädel wolle mer fonga,
Wie es gebil'te Leut' verlonga.

At de picknock oud in Spraker's Wood,
De Bier was soft-de gals were good:
Oondil von feller, vild and rasch,
Called out for a Yankee brandy-smash!

A crow vot vas valkin on de vall,
Fell dead ven he hear dis Dootchmann call;
For he knew dat droples coom, py shinks!
Ven de Dootch go in for Yankee drinks.

De Dootch got ravin droonk ash sin,
Dey smash de windows out und in;
Dey bust und bang de bar-room ein,
Und call for a bucket of branntewein.

Avay, avay, demselfs dey floong,
Und a wild infernal lied dey sung:
'Tvas, "Tam de wein, and cuss de bier!
Ve tont care nix for de demprance here!

"O keep a pringin juleps in,
Und baldface corn dat burn like sin;
Mit apple tods und oldt shtone fence,
Ve'll all get corned ere ve go hence!"

Dey dash deir glasses on de cround,
Und tanz dill'tvas all to brick-duss ground,
Ven dey hear von man had a ten-dollar note,
De crowd go dead for dat rich man's troat.

A demperance chap vot coomed dere in,
Vent squanderin out mit his shell burst in;
"It's walk your chalks, you loost your chance,
Dis vot de call der Dootchmans' dance."

Boot ven de law, mit his myrmidon,
Vas hear of dese Dootchmen's carryins-on,
Dey sent bolicemen shtern und good,
To pull dose Dootch in Spraker's Wood.

De Dootch vas all gone roarin mad,
Und trinked mit Spraker all dey had;
Dey shpend 'nuf money to last deir life,
And each vas tantzin mit anoder man's wife.

Dey all cot poonish difers vays,
Some vent to jug for dirty tays;
Und de von dat kilt de demperance man
Vas kit from de Alderman repriman.

Und dus it ran:-"A warnin dake,
For you mighdt hafe mate soom pig mishdake;
Now how vouldt you hafe feeled, py shing!
If dat man hat peen in de whiskey ring?

"Since you votes mine dicket, of course you know,
I'm pound to led you shlide und go.
Boot nefer on whiskey trink your fill,
For you Dootchmen don't know who to kill."

Now Deutschers all-on dis warning dink,
Und don't get troonk on Yankee trink,
For neider you, or anoder man,
Can pe hocks like de New York rowdies can.

So trink goot bier, mit musik plest,
For if you tried your level best,
You can't be plackguarts-taint in de plood:
Dus endet de shdory of Spraker's Wood.

I GILI ROMANESKRO. (Index)

A GIPSY BALLAD.

Vhen der Herr Breitmann vas a yungling, he vas go bummin aroundt goot deal in de worldt, vestigatin human natur, roulant de vergne en vergne, ash de Fraentsch boet says: "goin from town to town;" seein beobles in gemixed sociedy, und learnin dose languages vitch ornamendt a drue moskopolite, or von whose kopf ish bemosst mit experience. Mong oder tongues, ash it would appeared, he shpoke fluendly, Red Welsh, Black Dootch, Kauder-Waelsch, Gaunersprache, und Shipsy; und dis latter languashe he pring so wide dat he write a pook of pallads in it,-von of vitch pallads I hafe intuce him mit moosh droples to telifer ofer to de worldt. De inclined reader vill, mit crate heavy-hood blace pefore himself de fexation und lapor I hafe hat in der Breitmann his absents, to ged dese Shipsy verses broperly gorrected; as de only shentleman in town who vas culpable of so doin, ish peen gonfined in de town-brison, pout some droples he hat for shdealin some hens; und pefore I couldt consoolt mit him, he vas rooned afay. Denn I fond an oldt vomans Shipsy, who vas do nodings boot peg, und so wider mit pout five or four oders more. Derfore, de errordoms moost pe excused py de enlightened pooplic, who are fomiliar mit dis peautiful languashe, vitch is now so shenerally fashionábel in laterary und shpordin circles.
F. SCHWACKENHAMMER.

I GILI ROMANESKRO.

Schunava, ke baschno del a godla,
Schunava Paschomàskro.
Te del miro Dewel tumen
Dschavena Bachtallo.[3]

Schunava opré to ruka
Chirikló ke gillela:
Kamovéla but dives,
Eh'me pale kamaveva.

Apo je wa'wer divesseste
Schunava pro gilaviben,
M'akana me avava,
Pro marzos, pro kuriben.

So korava kuribente,
So korava apre dróm;
Me kanáv miri romni,
So kamela la lákero rom.

DRANSLATION.

I hear de gock a growin!
I hear de musikant!
Gott gife dee a happy shourney
Vhen you go to a distand landt.

I hears oopon de pranches
A pird mit merry shdrain,
Goot many tays moost fanish
Ere I coom to dis blace again.

Oopon some oder tay-times
I'll hear dat song from dee;
Boot now I goes ash soldier
To war, o'er de rollin sea.

Und vot I shdeals in pattle,
Und vot on de road I shdeal,
I'll pring all to my true lofe
Who lofes her lofer so well.

STEINLI VON SLANG. (Index)

DER watchman look out from his tower
Ash de Abendgold glimmer grew dim,
Und saw on de road troo de Gauer
Ten shpearmen coom ridin to him:
Und he schvear: "May I lose my next bitter,
Und denn mit der Teufel go hang!
If id isn't dat pully young Ritter,
De hell-drivin Steinli von Slang.

"De vorldt nefer had any such man,
He vights like a sturm in its wrath:
You may call me a recular Dutchman,
If he arn't like Goliath of Gath.
He ish big ash de shiant O'Brady,
More ash sefen feet high on a string,
Boot he can't vin de hearts of my lady,
De lofely Plectruda von Sling."

De lady make welcome her gast in,
Ash he shtep to de dop of de shtair,
She look like an angel got lost in
A forest of audumn-prown hair.
Und a bower-maiden said ash she tarried:
"I wish I may bust mit a bang!
If id isn't a shame she ain't married
To der her-re-liche Steinli von Slang!"

He pows to de cround fore de lady,
Vhile his vace ish ash pale ash de tead;
Und she vhispers oonto him a rédè
Ash mit arrow point accents, she said:
"You hafe long dimes peen dryin to win me,
You hafe vight, and mine braises you sing,
Boot I'm 'fraid dat de notion aint in me,
De Lady Plectruda von Sling.

"Boot brafehood teserves a reward, sir;
Dough you've hardly a chost of a shanse.
Sankt Werolf! medinks id ish hard, sir,
I should allaweil lead you dis dance."
Like a bees vhen it it booz troo de clofer,
Dese murmurin accents she flang,
Vhile singin, a stingin her lofer,
Der woe-moody Ritter von Slang.

"Boot if von ding you do, I'll knock under,
Our droples moost endin damit
Und if you pull troo it,- by donder!
I'll own myself euchred, und bit.
I schvear py de holy Sanct Chlody!
Py mine honor-und avery ding!
You may hafe me-soul, puttons und pody,
Mit de whole of Plectruda von Sling."

"Und dish ish de test of your power:-
Vhile ve shtand ourselfs round in a row,
You moost roll from de dop of dis tower,
Down shdairs to de valley pelow.
Id ish rough and shteep ash my virtue:"
(Mit schwanenshweet accents she sang:)
"Tont try if you dinks id vill hurt you,
Mine goot liddle Ritter von Slang."

An Moormoor arosed mong de beoples;
In fain tid she doorn in her shkorn,
Der vatchman on dop of de shdeeples
Plowed a sorryfool doon on his horn.
Ash dey look down de dousand-foot treppé,
Dey schveared dey vouldt pass on de ding,
Und not roll down de firstest tam steppé
For a hoondred like Fräulein von Sling.

II.

'Twas audumn. De dry leafs vere bustlin
Und visperin deir elfin wild talk,
Vhen shlow, mit his veet in dem rustlin,
Herr Steinli coomed out for a walk.
Wild dooks vly afar in de gloamin,
He hear a vaint gry vrom de gang;
Und vished he vere off mit dem roamin:
De heart-wounded Ritter Von Slang.

Und ash he vent musin und shbeakin,
He se, shoost ahead in his vay,
In sinkular manner a streakin,
A strange liddle bein, in cray,
Who toorned on him quick mit a holler,
Und cuttin a dwo bigeon ving,
Cried, "Say, can you change me a thaler,
Oh, guest of de Lady von Sling?"

De knight vas a goot-nadured veller,
(De peggars all knowed him at sight,)
So he forked out each groschen und heller,
Dill he fix de finances aright.
Boot shoost ash de liddle man vent, he,
(Der Ritter,) ashtonished cried "Dang!"
For id vasn't von thaler boot tventy,
He'd passed on der Ritter von Slang.

O reater! Soopose soosh a vlight in
De vingers of me, or of you,
How we'd toorned on our heels, und gon kitin
Dill no von vos left to pursue!
Good Lort! how we'd froze to de ready!
Boot mit him 'dvas a different ding;
For he vent on de high, moral steady,
Dis lofer of Fräulein von Sling.

Und dough no von vill gife any gredit
To dis part of mine dale, shdill id's drue,
He drafelled ash if he vould dead it,
Dis liddle oldt man to pursue.
Und loudly he after him hollers,
Till de vales mit de cliffers loud rang:
"You hafe gifed me nine-ten too moosh dollars,
Hold Hard!" cried der Ritter von Slang.

De oldt man ope his eyes like a casement,
Und laid a cold hand on his prow,
Denn mutter in ootmosdt amazement,
"Vot manner of mordal art dou?
I hafe lifed in dis world a yar tausend,
Und nefer yed met soosh a ding!
Yet you find it hart vork to pe spouse, and
Peloved by de Lady von Sling!

"Und she vant you to roll from de tower
Down shteps to yon rifulet spot."
(Here de knight, whom amazement o'erbower,
Cried, "Himmels potz pumpen Herr Gott!")
Boot de oldt veller saidt: "I'll arrange it,
Let your droples und sorrows co hang!
Und nodings vill coom to derange it-
Pet high on it, Ritter von Slang.

"So get oop dis small oonderstandin,
Dat to-morrow by ten, do you hear?
You'll pe mit your trunk at de landin;
I'll also be dere-nefer fear!
Und I dinks we shall make your young voman
A new kind of meloty sing;
Dat vain, wicked, cruel, unhuman,
Gott-tamnaple Fräulein von Sling."

De fiolet shdars vere apofe him,
Vhite moths und vhite dofes shimmered round,
All nature seemed seekin to lofe him,
Mit perfume und vision und sound.
De liddle oldt veller hat fanished,
In a harp-like, melotious twang;
Und mit him all sorrow vas panished
Afay from der Steinli von Slang.

III.

Id vas morn, und de vorldt hat assempled
Mid panners und lances und dust,
Boot de heart of de Paroness trempled,
Und ofden her folly she cussed.
For she found dat der Ritter vould do it,
Und "die or get into de Ring,"
Und denn she'd pe cerdain to rue it,
Aldough she vas Lady von Sling.

For no man in Deutschland stood higher
Dan he mit de Minnesing crew,
He vas friendet to Heini von Steier,
Und Wolfram von Eschenbach too.
Und she dinked ash she look from de vinders,
How herzlich his braises dey sang;
"Now dey'll knock my goot name indo flinders,
For killin der Ritter von Slang."

Boot oh! der goot knight had a Schauer,
Und felt most ongommonly queer,
Vhen he find on de top of de dower
De goblum, pesite him, abbear.
Denn he find he no more could go valkin,
Und shtood, shoost and potrified ding,
Vhile de goblum vent round about talkin,
Und chaffin Plectruda von Sling.

Denn at vonce he see indo de problum,
Und vas stoggered like rats at ids vim:
His soul had gone indo de goblum,
Und de goblum's hat gone indo him.
Und de eyes of de volk vas enchanted,
Dere vas "glamour" oopon de whole gang;
For dey dinked dat dis veller who ranted
So loose, vas der Ritter von Slang.

Und, Lordt! how he dalked! Oonder heafens
Dere vas nefer soosh derriple witz,
Knockin all dings to sechses and sefens,
Und gifin Plectruda, Dutch fits.
Mein Gott! how he poonished und chaffed her
Like a hell-stingin, devil-born ding;
Vhile de volk lay a-rollin mit laughter
At Fräulein Plectruda von Sling.

De lady grew angry und paler,
De lady grew ratful und red,
She felt some Satanical jailer
Hafe brisoned de tongue in her head.
She moost laugh vhen she vant to pe cryin,
Und vas crushed mit de teufelisch clang,
Till she knelt herself, pooty near dyin,
To dis derriple image of Slang.

Denn der goblum shoomp oop to der ceiling
Und trow sommerseds round on de vloor,
Right ofer Plectruda a-kneelin,
Dill she look more a vool dan pefore.
Denn he roll down de shteps light und breezy,
His laughs made it all apout ring;
Ash he shveared dere vas noding more easy
Dan to win a Plectruda von Sling.

Und vhen he cot down to de pottom,
He laugh so to freezen your plood;
Und schwear dat de boomps ash he cot em
Hafe make him feel petter ash good.
Boot, oh! how dey shook at his power,
Vhen he toorned himself roundt mit a bang,
Und roll oop to de dop of de tower,
To change forms mit de oder Von Slang!

Denn all in an insdand vas altered,
Der Steinli vas coom to himself;
Und de sprite, vitch in double sense paltered,
From dat moment acain vas an elf.
Dey shdill dinked dat he vas de person
Who had bobbed oop and down on de ving,
Und knew not who 'tvas lay de curse on
De peaudiful Lady von Sling.

Nun-endlich- Plectruda repented,
Und gazed on der Ritter mit shoy;
In dime to pe married consented,
Und vas plessed mit a peautifool poy.
A dwenty gold biece on his bosom
Vhen geporn vas tiscofered to hang
Mit de inscript-"Dis dime dont refuse em"-
So endet de tale of Von Slang.

Dresden, 1870.

TO A FRIEND STUDYING GERMAN. (Index)

Si liceret te amare
Ad Suevorum magnum mare
Sponsam te perducerem
- Tristicia Amorosa.
Frau Aventiure,
von J. V. Scheffel.

VILL'ST dou learn die Deutsche Sprache?
Denn set it on your card,
Dat all the nouns have shenders,
Und de shenders all are hard.
Dere ish also dings called pronoms,
Vitch id's shoost ash vell to know;
Boot ach! de verbs or time-words-
Dey'll work you bitter woe.

Will'st dou learn de Deutsche Sprche?
Den you allatag moost go
To sinfonies, sonatas,
Or an oratorio.
Vhen you dinks you knows 'pout musik,
More ash any other man,
Be sure de soul of Deutschland
Into your soul ish ran.

Will'st dou learn de Deutsche Sprache?
Dou moost eat apout a peck
A week of stinging sauerkraut,[4]
Und sefen pfoundts of speck.
Mit Gott knows vot in vinegar,
Und deuce knows vot in rum:
Dis ish de only cerdain vay
To make de accents coom.

Will'st dou learn de Deutsche Sprache?
Brepare dein soul to shtand
Soosh sendences ash ne'er vas heardt
In any oder land.
Till dou canst make parentheses
Intwisted-ohne zahl-
Dann wirst du erst Deutschfertig seyn,[5]
For a languashe ideál.

Will'st dou learn de Deutsche Sprache?
Du must mitout an fear
Trink afery tay an gallon dry,
Of foamin Sherman bier.
Und de more you trinks, pe certain,
More Deutsch you'll surely pe;
For Gambrinus ish de Emperor
Of de whole of Germany.

Will'st dou learn de Deutsche Sprache?
Be sholly, brav, und treu,
For dat veller ish kein Deutscher
Who ish not a sholly poy.
Find out vot means Gemütlichkeit,
Und do it mitout fail,
In Sang und Klang dein Lebenlang,[6]
A brick-ganz kreuzfidél.

Willst dou learn de Deutsche Sprache?
If a shendleman dou art,
Denn shtrike right indo Deutschland,
Und get a schveetes heart.
From Schwabenland or Sachsen
Vhere now dis writer pees;
Und de bretty girls all wachsen
Shoost like aepples on de drees.

Boot if dou bee'st a laty,
Denn on de oder hand,
Take a blonde moustachioed lofer
In de vine green Sherman land.
Und if you shoost kit married
(Vood mit vood soon makes a vire),
You'll learn to sprechen Deutsch mein kind,
Ash fast ash you tesire.

Dresden, January 1870.

LOVE SONG (Index)

Vulnerasti cor meum, soror mea sponsa.

O VERE mine lofe a sugar-powl,
De fery shmallest loomp
Vouldt shveet de seas, from pole to pole,
Und make de shildren shoomp.
Und if she vere a clofer-field,
I'd bet my only pence,
It vouldn't pe no dime at all
Pefore I'd shoomp de fence.

Her heafenly foice, it drill me so,
It oft-dimes seems to hoort,
She ish de holiest anamile
Dat roons oopon de dirt.
De renpow rises vhen she sings,
De sonnshine vhen she dalk;
De angels crow und flop deir vings
Vhen she goes out to valk.

So livin white, so carnadine,
Mine lofe's gomblexion show;
It's shoost like Abendcarmosine,
Rich gleamin on de shnow.
Her soul makes plushes in her sheek
Ash sommer reds de wein,
Or sonnlight sends a fire life troo
An blank Karfunkelstein.

De überschwengliche idées
Dis lofe poot in my mind,
Vouldt make a foost-rate philosoph
Of any human kind.
'Tis schudderin schveet on eart to meet
An himmlisch-hoellisch Qual;
Und treat mitwhiles to Kümmel Schnapps
De schoenheitsidéal.

Dein Füss seind weiss wie Kreiden,
Dein Ermlein Helfenbein,
Dein ganzer Leib ist Seiden
Dein Brust wie Marmelstein-
Ja-vot de older boet sang,
I sing of dee-dou Fine!
Dou'rt soul und pody, heart und life
Glatt, zart, gelind, und rein.[7]

DER FREISCHÜTZ (Index)

AIR - "Der Pabst lebt," &c.

WIE gehts, my frendts-if you'll allow-
I sings you rite afay shoost now
Some dretful shdories vitch dey calls
Der Freyschütz, or de Magic Balls.

Wohl in Bohemian land it cooms,
Vhere folk trink prandy mate of plooms;[8]
Dere lifed ein Yaeger-Maxerl Schmit-
Who shot mit goons und nefer hit.

Now dere vas von oldt Yaeger, who
Says, "Maxerl, dis vill nefer do;
If you shouldt miss on drial-tay,
Dere'll pe der tyfel denn to bay.

"If you do miss, you shtupid coose,
Dere'll pe de donnerwetter loose;
For you shant hafe mine taughter's hand,
Nor pe der Hertzhog's yaegersmann."

Id coomed pefore de tay vas set,
Dat all de shaps togeder met;
Und Max he fired his goon und missed,
Und all de gals cot roundt und hissed.

Dey laughed pefore und hissed pehind;
Boot von shap-Kaspar-saidt, "Ton't mind;
I dells you vot-you stoons 'em alls
If yoost you shoodt mit magic balls."

"De magic balls! oh, vot is dat?"
"I cot soom in my hoontin' hat;
Dey're plack as kohl, und shoodt so drue:
Oh, dem's de kindt of balls for you.

"You see dat eagle vlyin' high,
Ein hoondred miles oop in de sky;
Shoot at dat eagle mit your bix,
You kills hin tead ash doonderblix!"

"I ton't pelieve de dings you say."
"You fool," says Kasp, "denn plaze afay!"
He plazed afay, vhen, sure as plood,
Down coom de eagle in de mud.

"O was ist das?" said Maxerl Schmit:
"Vhy! dat's de eagle vot you hit.
You kills him vhen you plaze afay;
Boot dat's a ding you nix verstay.

"Und you moost go to make dem balls
To de Wolf's Glen vhen mitnight valls.
Dow know'st de shpot-alone und late"-
"Oh ja-I know shim ganz foost-rate!

"Boot denn I does not like to co
Among dem dings." Says Kasp, "Ach, 'sho!
I'll help you fix dem tyfel chaps,
Like a goot veller-dake some schnapps!"

("Hilf Zamiel! hilf")-"Here, dake some more!'
Denn Kasp vent shtompin' roundt de vloor,
Und coomed his hoompugs ofer Schmit,
Dill Max saidt, "Nun-ich gehe mit!"

All in de finster mitternocht,
Vhen oder folk in shleep vas lockt,
Down in de Wolfschlucht, Kasp tid dry
His tyfel-strikes und Hexery.

Mit skools und pones he mate a ring,
De howls und shpooks pegin to sing,
Und all the tyfels oonder croundt
Coom preakin' loose und rooshin' roundt.

Denn Maxerl cooms along: says he,
"Mein Gott! vot dings ish dis I see!
I dinks de fery tyfel und all
Moost help to make dem magic ball.

"I vish dat I had nix cum raus,
Und shtaid mineself in bett to house."
"Hilf Zamiel!" cried Kasp; "you whelp-
You red Dootch tyfel-coom und help!"

Den oop dere coomed a tredfull shdorm,
De todtengrips aroundt tid schvarm;
De howl shoomped oop und flopt his vings
Und toorned his het like avery dings.

Oop droo de croundt dere coomed a pot
Mit leadt, und dings to make de shot;
Und höllisch fire in grimson plaze,
Und awful schmells like Schweitzer kase.

Agross de scene a pine-shtick flew
Mit seferal shail-pirds vastened to;
Six treadtful shail-pirds mit deir vings
Tied to de shticks mit magic shtrings.

All droo de air, all in a row,
Die wilde Jagd vas seen to go;
De hounds und teer all mate of pone,
Und hoonted py a skilleton.

Dere coomed a tredful shpecdre pig,
Who, shpitten' fire afay, tid dig;
Und fiery drocks und tyfel-shnake
A scootin' droo de air tid preak.

Boot Kaspar tidn't mindt dem alls,
But casted out de pullet balls;
Six vas to go ash he vouldt like,
De sevent' moost for de tyfel shtrike.

Ad last, oopon de drial tay,
De gals cot roundt so nice und gay,
Und den dey goed und maked a tantz,
Und singed apout de Jungfernkranz.

Und denn der Hertshog-dat's der Duke-
Cooms doun und dinks he'll dake a look;
"Young mans," to Maxerl denn saidt he,
"Shoost shoot dem dove oopon dat dree!"

Denn Maxerl pointed mit de bix,
"Potzblitz!" says he, "dat dove I'll fix!"
He fired his rifle at de Taub',
When Kass rollt ofer in de Staub.

De pride she falled too in de doost,
Dey gals dey cried, de men dey got coossed:
Der Hertshog says, "Id's fery glear
Dat dere has peen some tyfels here!

"Und Max has shot mit tyfels-blei!
Pfui!-die verfluchte Hexerei!
O Maximilian! O Du
Gehst nit mit rechten Dingen zu!"

Boot denn a hermits coomed in late;
Says he, "I'll fix dese dings foostrate;"
Und telled der Hertshog dat yung men
Vill raise der Tyfel now und denn.

De Duke forgifed de Kaspar dann,
Und mate of him a Yägersmann,
Vhat shoodts mit bixen goon, und pfeil,
Und talks apout de Waidmannsheil.

Und denn de pride she coomed to life,
Und cot to pe de Maxerl's vife;
Denn all de beoples gried "Hoorah!
Das ist recht brav! und hopsasa!"

MORAL

Py dis dings may pe oondershtood
Dat vhat is pad works ofden goot:
Or, Maximilia maximilibus curantur-if you will.

WEIN GEIST (Index)

I STOOMPLED oud ov a dafern,
Berauscht mit a gallon of wein,
Und I rooshed along de strassen,
Like a derriple Eberschwein.

Und like a lordly boar-pig,
I doomplet de soper folk;
Und I trowed a shtone droo a shdreed lamp,
Und bot' of de classes I proke.

Und a gal vent roonin' bast me,
Like a vild coose on de vings,
Boot I gatch her for all her skreechin',
Und giss her like efery dings.

Und denn mit an board und a parell,
I blay de horse-viddle a biece,
Dill de neighbours shkreem "deat'!" und "murder!"
Und holler aloudt "bolice!"

Und vhen der crim night wächter
Says all of dis foon moost shtop,
I oop mit mein oomberella,
Und schlog him ober de kop.

I leaf him like tead on de bavemend,
Und roosh droo a darklin' lane,
Dill moonlighd und tisdand musik,
Pring me roundt to my soul again.

Und I sits all oonder de linden,
De hearts-leaf linden dree;
Und I dink of de quick gevanisht lofe
Dat vent like de vind from me.
Und I voonders in mine dipsyhood,
If a damsel or dream vas she!

Dis life is all a lindens
Mit holes dat show de plue,
Und pedween de finite pranches
Cooms Himmel-light shinin' troo.

De blaetter are raushlin' o'er me,
Und efery leaf ish a fay,
Und dey vait dill de windsbraut comet,
To pear dem in Fall afay.

Denn I coomed to a rock py der rifer,
Vhere a stein ish of harpe form,
-Jahrdausand in, oud, it standet'-
Und nopody blays but de shtorm.

Here, vonce on a dimes, a vitches,
Soom melodies here peginned,
De harpe ward all zu steine,
Die melodie ward zu wind.

Und so mit dis tox-i-gation,
Vitch hardens de outer Me;
Ueber stein and schwein, de weine
Shdill harps oud a melodie.

Boot deeper de Ur-lied ringet',
Ober stein und wein und svines,
Dill it endeth vhere all peginnet,
Und alles wird ewig zu eins,
In de dipsy, treamless sloomper
Vhich units de Nichts und Seyns.

Und im Mondenlicht it moormoors,
Und it burns by waken wein,
In Mädchenlieb or Schnapsenrausch
Das Absolut ist dein.

SCHNITZERL'S PHILOSOPEDE. (Index)

Die Speer die er thut führen
die ist sehr gross und lang,
Das sollt du glauben mire,
gemacht von Vogelsgang.
Sein Ross das ist die Heide,
das sollt du glauben mir,
Darauf er nun thut reiten,
führwahr das sag ich dir.
- Ein schön nerr Lied von dem Mai Und
von dem Herbst. 16th century.

PROLOGUE. (Index)

HERR SCHNITZERL make a ph'losopede,
Von of de pullyest kind;
It vent mitout a vheel in front,
And hadn't none pehind.
Von vheel vas in de mittel, dough,
And it vent as sure ash ecks,
For he shtraddled on de axel dree,
Mit der vheel petween his lecks.

Und vhen he vant to shtart it off
He paddlet mit his feet,
Und soon he cot to go so vast
Dat efery dings he peat.
He run her out on Broader shtreed,
He shkeeted like der vind,
Hei! how he bassed de vancy crabs,
And lef dem all pehind!

De vellers mit de trottin nags
Pooled oop to see him bass;
De Deutschers all erstaunished saidt:
"Potztausend! Was ist das?"
Boot vaster shtill der Schnitzerl flewed
On - mit a ghastly shmile;
He tidn't tooch de dirt, py shings!
Not vonce in half a mile.

Oh, vot ish all dis eart'ly pliss?
Oh, vot ish man's soocksess?
Oh, vot ish various kinds of dings?
Und vot ish hobbiness?
Ve find a pank node in de shtreedt,
Next dings der pank ish preak!
Ve folls, and knocks our outsides in,
Vhen ve a ten shtrike make.

So vas it mit der Schnitzerlein
On his philosopede.
His feet both shlipped outsidevard shoost
Vhen at his exdra shpeed.
He felled oopon der vheel of coorse;
De vheel like blitzen flew!
Und Schnitzerl he vos schnitz in vact,
For it shlished him grod in two.

Und as for his philosopede,
Id cot so shkared, men say,
It pounded onward till it vent
Ganz tyfelwards afay.
Boot vhere ish now der Schnitzerl's soul?
Vhere dos his shbirit pide?
In Himmel droo de endless plue,
It takes a medeor ride.

II.

HANS BREITMANN AND HIS PHILOSOPEDE. (Index)

Vhen Breitmann hear dat Schnitzerl
Vas quardered into dwo,
Und how his crate philosopede
To 'm tyfel had peen flew,
He dinked und dinked so heafy,
Ash only Deutschers can,
Denn saidt, "Who mighdt peliefet
Dish is de ent of man?"

"De human souls of beoples
Exisdt in deir idées,
Und dis of Wolfram Schnitzerl
Mighdt drafel many vays.
In his Bestimmung des Menschen
Der Fichte makes pelieve,
Dat ve brogress oon-endtly
In vhat pehindt ve leave.

"De shparrow falls ground-downvarts
Or drafels to de West;
De shparrows dat coom afder,
Bild shoost de same old nest.
Man had not vings or fedders,
Und in oder dings, 'tis set,
He tont coom up to shparrows,
But on nests he goes ahet.

"O! vliest dou droo bornin' vorldts,
Und nebuloser foam,
By monsdrous mitnight shiant forms,
Or vhere red tyfels roam;
Or vhere de ghosdts of shky-rockets
Peyond creation flee?
Vhere e'er dou art, O Schnitzerlein,
Crate Saindt! Look down on me!

"Und deach me how you maket
Dat crate philosopede,
Vhich roon dwice six mals vaster
Ash any Arap shteed.
Und deach me how to 'stonish volk,
Und knock dem oud de shpots.
Coom pack to eart', O Schnitzerlein,
Und pring id down to dots!"

Shoost ash dish vordt vent outvarts,
Hans dinked he saw a vlash,
Und oonterwards de dable
He doompelt mit a crash.
Und to him, moong de glasses,
Und pottles ash vas proke,
Mit his het in a cigar-box,
A foice from Himmel shpoke:

"Adsum, Domine Breitmann!
Herr Copitain, here I pe!
So dell me rite honeste,
Quare inquietasti me?
Te video inter spoonibus,
Et largis glassis too,
Cerevisia repletis,
Sicut percussus tonitru!"

Denn Breitmann ansver Schnitzerl;
"Coarctor nimis, see!
Siquidem Philistiim
Pugnant adversum me.
Ergo vocavi te,
Ash Saul vocavit Sam-
Uel, ut mi ostenderes
Quid teufel faciam?"

Denn de shpirit (in Lateinisch)
Saidt "Bene, dat's de talk,
Non habes in hoc shanty,
A shingle et some chalk?
Non video inkum nec calamos
(I shpose some bummer shdole 'em),
Levate oculos tuos, son,
Et aspice ad linteolum!"

Denn Breitmann see de biece of chalk
Vhich riset vrom de vloor,
Und signed a fine philosopede
Alone, oopon de toor.
De von dat Schnitzerl fobricate,
Und oonderneat' he see:
Probate inter equites,
(Try dis in de cavallrie).

Der Breitmann shtood oop from de vloor,
Und leanet on a post;
Und saidt: "If dis couldt, shouldt hafe peen,
Dar vouldt, mighdt peen a ghosdt;
Boot if id pe noumenon,
Phenomenoned indeed,
Or de soobyectif obyectified,
I'fe cot de philosopede."

Denn out he seekt a plackschmit,
Ash vork in iron-steel,
To make him a philosopede
Mit shoost an only vheel.
De dings vas maket simple,
Ash all crate idées shouldt pe,
For 'tvas noding boot a gart-vheel,
Mit a dwo-feet axel dree.

De dimes der Breitmann doomple,
In learnin' for to ride,
Vas ofdener ash de sand-crains
Dat rollen in de tide.
De dimes he cot oopsettet,
In shdeerin' left und righdt,
Vas ofdener ash de cleamin' shdars,
Dat shtud de shky py night.

Boot de vorstest of de veadures
In dis von-vheel horse, you pet,
Ish dat man couldt go so nicely,
Pefore he get oopset.
Some dimes he co like plazes,
Und doorn her, extra-fine;
Und denn shlop ofer - dis is vot
Hafe kill der Schnitzerlein.

Soosh droples ash der Breitmann hafe,
To make dis 'vention go,
Vas nefer seen py mordal man,
Oopon dis vorldt pelow.
He doomplet righdt - he doomplet left,
He hafe a dousand doomps;
Dere nefer vas a gricket ball
Ash get soosh 'fernal boomps.

Boot - ash he'd shvearet he'd poot it droo,
He shvear't it moost pe tone;
Dough he schimpft' und flucht' gar lästerlich,
He visht he't ne'er pegun.
Mit "Hagel! Blitz! Kreuz-sakrament!"
He maket de Houser ring,
Und vish der Schnitzerl vas in hell,
For deachin' him dis ding.

Nun - goot! At lasht he cot it,
Und peautifool he goed,
"Dis day," saidt he, "I'll 'stonish folk
A ridin' in de road.
Dis day, py shings! I'll do it,
Und knock dings oud of sight:"-
Ach weh! - for Breitmann dat day
Vas not be-markt mit vhite.

De noombers of de Deutsche volk,
Dat coomed dis sighdt to see,
I dink, in soper earnst-hood,
Mighdt not ge-reckonet pe.
For miles dey shtoodt along de road,
Mein Gott! - boot dey wer'n dry;
Dey trinket den lager-bier shops out,
Pefore der Hans coom py.

Vhen all at vonce drementous gries
De fery coondry shook,
Und beople's shkreemt, "Da ist er! - Schau!
Here cooms der Breitmann, look!"
Mein Gott! vas efer soosh a sighdt!
Vas efer soosh a gry!
Vhen like a brick-pat in a vighdt,
Der Breitemann roosh py?

Oh mordal man! Vhy ish idt, dou
Hast passion to go vast?
Vhy ish id dat te tog und horse
Likes shbeed too quick to lasht?
De pugs, de pirds, de pumple-pees,
Und all dat ish, 'tvouldt seem
Ish nefer hobby boot, exsepdt,
Vhen pilin' on de shdeam.

Der Breitmann flew! Von mighdy gry
Ash he vent scootin' bast;
Von derriple, drementous yell;-
Dat day de virst - und lasht.
Vot ha! Vot ho! Vhy ish it dus?
Vhot makes dem shdare aghasht?
Vhy cooms dat vail of vild deshbair?
Ish somedings cot ge-shmasht?

Yea, efen so. Yea, ferily,
Shbeak, soul!-it ish dy biz!
Der Breitmann shkeet so vast along
Dey fairly heard him whizz.
Vhen shoost oopon a hill-top point
It caught a pranch ge-bent,
Und like an apple from a shling,
Afay Hans Breitmann vent.

Vent droo de air an hoondert feet
Allowin' more or lees:-
Denn, pob-pob-pob - a mile or dwo
He rollet along - I guess.
Say - hast dou seen a gannon ball
Half shpent, shtill poundin' on,
Like made of gummi-lasticum?-
So vent der Breitmann.

Dey bick him oop - dey pring him in,
No wort der Breitmann shboke.
Der doktor look - he shwear erstaunt
Dat nodings ish peen proke.
"He rollt de rocky road entlang,
He pounce o'er shtock und shtone,
You'd dink he'd knocked his outsites in,
Yet nefer preak a pone!"

All shtill Hans lay, bevilderfied;
He seemt not mind de shaps,
Nor mofed oontil der medicus
Hafe dose him vell mit schnapps.
De schmell voke oop de boetry
Of tays vhen he vas yoong,
Und he murmulte de fragmends
Of an sad romantish song:

"Ash sommer pring de roses
Und roses pring de dew,
So Deutschland gifes de maidens
Who fetch de bier for you.
Komm Maidelein! rothe Waengelein!
Mit wein-glass in your paw!
Ve'll get troonk among de roses,
Und pe soper on de shtraw!

"Ash vinter pring de ice-wind
Vitch plow o'er Burg und hill,
Hard times pring in de landlord,
Und de landlord pring the pill.
Boot sing Maidelein - rothe Waengelein!
Mit wein glass in your paw!
Ve'll get troonk among de roses,
Und pe soper on de shtraw!"

Dey dook der Breitmann homewarts,
Boot efer on de vay
He nefer shpeaket no man,
Und nodings else couldt say,
Boot, "Maidelein - rothe Waengelein!
Mit wein-glass in her paw,
Ve'll get troonk among de roses,
Und pe soper on de shtraw!"

Dey laid der Hans im bette,
Peneat' de eider doun,
Und sembelet all de doktors
Who doktor in de town,-
Dat ish, de Deutsche Aertzte,-
For Breitmann alvays says,
De Deutschers ish de onlies
Mit originell idées.

Der vas Doktor Moritz Schlinkenschlag,
Dat vork ash Caféopath,
Und de learned Cobus Schoepfskopf,
Who use de milchy bath;
Und Korschalitschky aus Boehmen,
Vhat cure mit slibovitz,
Und Wechselbalg, der Preusse,
Who only 'tend to fits.

Dere vas Strobbich aus Westfalen,
Who mofe all eart'ly ills
Mit concentrirter Schinken juice,
Und Pumpernickel pills.
Und a bier-kur man from Munich,
Und a grape-curist from Rhein,
Und von who shkare tiseases
Mit a dose of Schlesier-wein.

So dey meet in consooldation,
Mit Doktor Winkeleck,
Who proctice "renovation"
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.) (Index)

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 liquör,
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 allerschönste 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 schöne 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 (Index)

"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. (Index)

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 yäger 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 yäger 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 (Index)

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. (Index)

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 Fräntsch, 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. (Index)

"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!"

Und while he yet was shpeakin,
A far-off soundt pegan,
Down rollin from de moundain
Of many a ridersmann.
Und vhile de waves of musik
Vere rollin o'er deir heads,
Dey heard a foice a schkreemin,
"Pile out of thar, you Feds!

"For we uns ar' a comin
For to guv to you uns fits,
And knock you into brimstun
And blast you all to bits"-
Boot ere it done ids shpeakin,
Der vas order in de band,
Ash Breitmann, mit an awfool stim
Out-dondered his gommand.

Und ash fisch-hawk at a mackarel
Doth make a splurgin flung,
Und ash eagles dab de fish-hawks
Ash if de gods vere young,
So from all de doors and vindows,
Like shpiders down deir webs
De Dootch went at deir horses,
Und de horses at de rebs.

Crate shplendors of de treadful
Vere in dat pattle rush,
Crate vights mit swords und carpine,
Py efery fence and bush.
Ash panters vight mit crislies
In famished morder fits-
For de rebs vere mad ash boison,
Und de Dootch vere droonk ash blitz.

Yet vild ash vas de pattle,
So quickly vas it o'er,
O, vhy moost I forefer
Pestain mine page mit gore?
Py liddle und py liddle
Dey drawed demselfs afay,
Oft toornin' round to vighten
Like boofaloes at bay.

De scatterin shots grew fewer,
De scatterin gries more shlow,
Und furder troo de forest
Ve heard dem vainter grow.
Ve gife von shout - "Victoria!"
Und denn der Breitmann said,
Ash he wiped his ploody sabre:
"Now, poys, count oop your dead!"

Oh small had been our shoutin
For shoy, if ve had known
Dat der Stossenheim im oaken wald,
Lay dyin all alone.
Vhile his oldt vhite horse mit droopin het
Look dumbly on him doun,
Ash if he dinked, "Vy lyest dou here
Vhile fightin's goin on?"

Und dreams coom o'er de soldier
Slow dyin on de eart;
Of a schloss afar in Baden,
Of his mutter, und nople birt!
Of poverty and sorrow,
Vhich drofe him like de wind,
Und he sighed, "Ach weh for de lofed ones,
Who wait so far pehind!"

"Wohl auf, my soul o'er de moundains!
Wohl auf - well ofer de sea!
Dere's a frau dat sits in de Odenwald
Und shpins, und dinks of me.
Dere's a shild ash blays in de greenin grass,
Und sings a liddle hymn,
Und learns to shpeak a fader's name
Dat she nefer will shpeak to him.

"But mordal life ends shortly
Und Heafen's life is long:-
Wo bist du Breitmann? - glaub'es-[22]
Gott suffers noding wrong.
Now I die like a Christian soldier,
My head oopon my sword:-
In nomine Domini!"-
Vas Stossenheim his word.

O, dere vas bitter wailen
Vhen Stossenheim vas found.
Efen from dose dere lyin
Fast dyin on de ground.
Boot time vas short for vaiten,
De shades vere gadderin dim:
Und I nefer shall forget it,
De hour ve puried him.

De tramp of horse und soldiers
Vas all de funeral knell;
De ring of sporn und carpine
Vas all de sacrin bell.
Mit hoontin knife und sabre
Dey digged de grave a span,
From German eyes blue gleamin
De holy water ran.

Mit moss-grown shticks und bark-thong
De plessed cross ve made,
Und put it vhere de soldier's head
Towards Germany vas laid.
Dat grave is lost mit dead leafs,
De cross is goned afay:
Boot Gott will find der reiter
Oopon de Youngest Day.

Und dinkin of de fightin,
Und dinkin of de dead,
Und dinkin of de organ,
To Nashville, Breitmann led
Boot long dat rough oldt Hanserl
Vas earnsthaft, grim und kalt,
Shtill dinkin o'er de heart's friend,
He'd left im gruenen wald.[23]

De verses of dis boem
In Heidelberg I write;
De night is dark around me,
De shtars apove are bright.
Studenten in den Gassen[24]
Make singen many a song;
Ach Faderland! - wie bist du weit!
Ach Zeit! - wie bist du lang![25]

BREITMANN IN KANSAS.[26] (Index)

VONCE oopon a dimes, goot vhile afder der var vas ofer, der Herr Breitmann vent oud Vest, drafellin' apout like efery dings - "circuivit terram et perambulavit eam," ash der Teufel said ven dey ask him: "How vash you und how you has peen?"

Von efenings he vas drafel mit some ladies und shendlemans, und he shtaid incognitus. Und dey singed songs, dill py und py one of de ladies say: "Ish any podies here ash know de crate pallad of Hans Breitmann's Barty?" Den Hans say: "Ecce Gallus! I am dat rooster!" Den der Hans dook a trink und a let-bencil und a biece of baper, und goes indo himself a little dimes und den coomes out again mit dis boem:

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas:
He drafel fast und far;
He rided shoost drei dousand miles
All in von rail-roat car.
He knowed foost rate how far he goed-
He gounted all de vile,
Dere vash shoost one bottle of champagne,
Dat bopped at efery mile.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
I dell you vot, my poy,
You bet dey hat a pully dimes
In crossin' Illinoy.
Dey speaked deir speaks to all de folk
A shtandin' in de car;
Den ask dem in to dake a trink,
Und corned em gans und gar.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
By shings! dey did it prown.
When he got into Leafenvort,
He found himself in town.
Dey dined him at de Blanter's House,
More goot as man could dink;
Mit efery dings on eart' to eat,
Und dwice as mooch to trink.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
He vent it on de loud.
At Ellsvort, in de prairie land,
He foundt a pully crowd.
He looked for bleedin' Kansas,
But dat's "blayed out," dey say;
De vhiskey keg's de only ding
Dat's bleedin' dere to-day.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas,
To see vot he could hear.
He foundt soom Deutschers dat exisdt
Py makin' lager beer.
Says he: "Wie gehts du Alt Gesell?"
But nodings could be heard;
Dey'd growed so fat in Kansas
Dat dey couldn't speak a vord.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
Py shings! I dell you vot,
Von day he met a crisly bear
Dat rooshed him down, bei Gott!
Boot der Breitmann took und bind der bear
Und bleased him fery much-
For efery vordt der crisly growled
Vas goot Bavarian Dutch!

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas!
By donder dat is so!
He ridet oout upon de blains
To shase de boofalo.
He fired his rifle at de bools,
Und gallop droo de shmoke,
Und shoomp de canyons shoost as if
Der teufel vas a choke!

It's hey de trail to Santa Fé;
It's ho! agross de plain;
It's lope along de Denver road,
Until ve toorn again.
Und de railroad drafel after us
Apout as quick as ve;
Dis Kansas ish de fastest land
Ash efer I did see.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
He have a pully dime;
But 'twas in old Missouri
Dat dey rooshed him up subline.
Dey took him to der Bilot Nob,
Und all der nobs around;
Dey shpreed him und dey tea'd him
Dill dey roon him to de ground.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas,
Und made his carpine pop!
Ven he shooted at a drifer man
To make de wagon shdop.
A noble Tribune shendleman
Shoost dodged dat pullet's bore,
Und de driver shwore dat soosh a crowd
He nefer druv pefore.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
Droo all dis earthly land,
A vorkin' out life's mission here
Soobyectifly und grand.
Some beoplesh runs de beautiful,
Some vorks philosophie;
Der Breitmann solfe de infinide
Ash von eternal shpree!

HANS BREITMANN'S CHRISTMAS. (Index)

"Häc est illa bona dies
Et vocata läta quies
Vina sitientibus.

"Nullus metus, nec labores,
Nulla cura, nec dolores,
Sint in hoc symposio."
[De Generibus Ebriosorum, Francoforti
ad Mönum, A.D. 1585.

ID vas on Weihnachtsabend -
Vot Ghristmas Efe dey call-
Der Breitmann mit his Breitmen
tid rent de Musik Hall;
Ash de Breitmen und die vomen
who vere in de Liederkranz
Vouldt blend deir souls in harmonie
to have a bleasin tantz.

Dey reefed de Hall 'mid pushes
so nople to pe seen,
Aroundt Beethoven's buster
dey on-did a garlandt creen:
De laties vork like teufels
dwo tays to scroob de vloor
Und hanged a crate serenity
mit WILLKOMM! oop de toor!

Und vhile dere vas a Schwein-blatt
whose redakteur tid say,
Die Breitmann he vas liederlich:
ve ant-worded dis-a way,
Ve maked anoder serenity
mid ledders plue und red:
"Our Leader lick de repels!
N.G." (enof gesaid.)

Und anoder serene dransbarency
ve make de veller baint,
Boot de vay he potch und vertyfeled id,
vas enof to shvear a saint,
For ve vanted LA GERMANIA; -
boot der ardist mit a bloonder,
Vent und vlorished LAGER agross id -
und denn poot MANIA oonder!

"Now ve moost pe guest-friendlich,"
said Breitmann, said he;
"Und shoot te toor vide oben,
for beople all to see.
Four elemends indernally
unided make a punsch;
Boot id dakes a tausend fellers
vhen you gifes dem freie lunsch."

Und as Ghristmas Efe vas gekommen,
de beoplesh weren im Hall;
I shvears you id vas Gott-full -
dat shplendit, peglory'd ball;
Ve hat foon wie der Teufel in Frankreich -
ve coot oop like der teufel in France,
Und valk pair-wise in,
vhile de musik blayed loudt de Fackel-Tanz.

Boot vhen de valtz shtrike oopwart
ve most went out of fits,
Ash der Breitmann led off on a dwister
mit de lofely Helmine Schmitz.
He valtz yoost like he vas shtandin' shtill
mit a peaudiful solemn shmile,
Und Helmine say he nefer shtop
poussiren alla weil.

"Es tönt, es rauschet Saitenklang -
I hear de musik call
Den herzenhellen Saal entlang -
all droo de gleamin' Hall.
O möcht ich schweben stolz und froh -
O mighdt I efer pe
Mit dir durchs ganze Leben so! -
mine Lebanlang py dee!"

Und vaster blay de musik
de Wellen und Wogen von Strauss;
Und soom drop indo de tantzen,
und soom of dem drop aus;
Und soon like a shtorm in de Meere
I veel de reelin' vloor,
So de shpinners shtop mit de shpinsters,
for dey couldn't shpin no more.

Now weren ve all frolic,
und lauter guter ding,
Und dirsty ash a broosh-pinder -
vhen ve hear some glasses ring;
Foors mild und sonft in de distants -
like de song of a nightingall,
Denn a ringin' und rottlin und clotterin' -
ash de Glück of Edenhall?

Hei! how ve roosh on de liquor! -
hei: how de kellners coom:
Hei! how ve busted de bier-kegs
und poonished de Punsch a la Rhum.
Like lonely wafes at mitternight
oopon some shiant shore-
Like an awful shtorm in de Wälder -
vas de dirsty Deutschers' roar!

I pyed some carts for a dime abiece -
I pyed shoost fifdy-dwo,
Dey vere goot for bier, or schnapps,
or wein - by doonder how dey flew!
I ring de deck on de vaiters
for liquor hot und cool,
Und efery dime I blays a cart,
py shings, I rake de pool![27]

Und ash ve trinked so comforble,
like boogs in any roog,
De trompets blowed tan da ra dei,
und dere come in a Maskenzug,
A peaudiful brocession,
soul-raisin' and sooplime,
De marmorbilds of de heroes
of de early Sharman dime.

Dere vent der gros Arminius,
mit his frau Thusnelda, doo,
De vellers ash lam de Romans
dill dey roon mit noses plue;
Denn vollowed Quinctilius Varus
who carry a Roman yoke,
Und arm in arm mit Gambrinus
coom der Allemane Chroc.

Der Alte Friedrich Rothbart,
und Kaiser Karl der crate,
Mit Roland und Uliverus
vent shveepin' on in shtate;
Und Conradin, whose sad-full deat'
shtill makes our heartsen pleed,
Und all ov dem oldt vellers
aus dem Nibelungen Lied.

Und as dey mofed on, der Breitmann
maked a tyfeled shplendid witz
In anti-word to dis quesdion
from de lofely Mina Schmitz:
"Vhy ish id dey always makes in shtone
dem vellers so andiquadet?"
"Vhy - dey set in de laps of Ages
dill dey got lapi-dated!"

Und shoost as de last of dis hisdory
hat fanished droo de door,
Ve heardt a ge-screech,
and Pelz Nickel coom howlin' on de vloor;
Denn de laties yell like der teufel,
und vly like gulls mit wings,
Und der Pelz Nickel lick em mit svitches,
und ve laugh like eferydings.

I nefer hafe sooch laughen
before dat I vas geborn;
Und Pelz Nickel, vhen 'tvas ober,
he plow on a yäger horn,
Und denounce do all de beople
gesembled in de hall:
"Dat a Ghristmas dree vas vaiten',
mit bresents for oos all!"

So ve vollowed him into de zimmer
so quick ash dese vords he said,
To kit dem peaudiful bresents,
all gratis und on de dead;
Und in facdt a shplendid Weihnachtsbaum
mit lighds ve druly vound,
Und liddel kifts dat ge-kostet
a benny abiece all round!

Dere vas Rike Strange die Dessauerinn -
a maedchen shtraigdt und tall,
She cot a bicture of Cubid -
boot she tidn't see it ad all,
Dill der Breitmann say, mit his shplendid shtyle
dat all de laties dake:
"Dat pend of de bow ish de Crecian pend
dat you so ofden make!"

Anoder scharmante laity,
Maria Top, did cot,
A schwingin' mit a ribbon,
a liddle benny pot;
Boot Breitmann hafe id de roughest
of any oder mans,
For he kit a yellow gratle
mit a liddle vooden Hans.

Denn next Beethoven's Sinfonie,
die orkester tid blay;
Adagio - allegro -
andante cantabile.
Ve sat in shtill commotion
so dat a bin mighdt drops,
Und de deers roon town der Breitmann's sheeks,
mitwhiles he was trinkin' schnapps.

Next dings ve had de Weinnachtstraum
ge-sung by de Liederkranz,
Denn I trinked dwelf schoppens of glee-wine
to sed me oop for a tantz;
Dis dimes I tanz wie der Teufel -
we shriek de volk on de vloor;
Und boost right indo de sooper room -
vor ve tanzt a hole droo de door!

Denn 'twas rowdy tow und hop-sassa,
ve hollered, Mann und Weib;
"Rip Sam und sed her oop acain! -
ve're all of de Shackdaw tribe!"
Vhen Pelz Nickel plow his tromp vonce more,
und peg oos to shtop our din,
Und droo de oben door dere coomed
nine den-pins marchin' in.

Nine vellers tressed like den-pins -
dey goed to de end' der hall.
Und dwo Hans Wurst, shack-puddin' glowns -
dey rolled at em mit a ball.
De balls vas paintet peaudiful;
dey was vifdeen feet aroundt;
Und de rule ov de came: "whoefer cot hidt,
moost doomple on de croundt."

Sometimes dey hit de den-pins -
sometimes de oder volk-
Und pooty soon de gompany
vas all laid out in shoke;
Boot I dells you vot, it maked oos laugh
dill we by-nearly shplits,
Vhen der Breitmann he roll ofer,
und drip oop de Mina Schmitz.

Dis lets itself in Sharman pe
foost-rade word-blayed on,
Und 'mongst oos be-gifted vellers
you pet dat id vas tone!
How der Breitmann mighdt drafel ash bride-man on
de roadt dat ish breit und krumm:[28]
Here de drumpets soundt,
and pair-wise ve goed for de sooper-room.

Ve goed for ge-roasted Welsh-hens,
ve goed for ge-spickter hare,
Ve goed for kartoffel salade
mit butter brod,-kaviar:
Ve roosh at de lordtly sauer-kraut
und de wurst which lofely shine,
Und oh, mein Gott im Kimmel!
how we goed for de Mosel-wein!

Und troonker more, und troonker yet,
und troonker shtill cot ve,
In rosy lighdt shtill drivin on
agross a fairy sea;
Denn madder, vilder, frantic-er,
I proked a salat dish!
Und shoost like roarin' elefants
ve tantzed aroundt de tish.

I'fe shvimmed in heafenly droonks pefore -
boot nefer von like dis;
De morgen-het-ache only seemt
a bortion of de pliss.
De vhile in trilling peauty roundt
like heafenly vind-harps rang
A goosh of goldnen melodie -
de Rheinweinbechers' Klang.

De meltin' minnesingers' song -
a droonk of honey'd rhyme-
De b'wildrin-dipsy Bardic shants
of Teutoburgic dime;
Back to de runic dim Valhall
und Balder's foamin' mead:-
Here ents in heller glorie schein
des Breitmann's Weihnachtslied!

BREITMANN ABOUT TOWN (Index)

DER SCHWACKENHAMMER coom to down,
Pefore de Fall vas past,
Und by der Breitmann drawed he in
Ash dreimals honored gast.
"Led's see de sighdts! In self und worldt,-
Dere's 'sighdts' for him, to see,
Who Selbstanschauungsvermögen hat,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to de Opera Haus,
Und dere dey vound em blayin',
Of Offenbach (der open brook),
His show spiel Belle Heléne.
"Dere's Offenbach, - Sebastian Bach,-
Mit Kaulbach, - dat makes dree:
I alvays like sooch brooks ash dese;"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to de Bibliothek,
Vhich Mishder Astor bilt:
Some pooks vere only en broschure,
Und some vere pound und gilt.
"Dat makes de gold - dat makes de sinn,
Mit pooks, ash men, ve see,
De pest tressed vellers guilt de most:"-
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent to see an edidor,
Who'd shanged his flag und doon,
Und crowed oopon der oder side,
Dat very afdernoon.
"De anciends vorshipped wettercocks,
To wetter fanes pent de knee;
Pow down, mein Schwackenhammer, pow!"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented by a panker's hause,
Und Schwackenhammer shvore,
He only vant a pig red shield
Hoong oop pefore de toor;
One side of red, one side of gold,
Like de knighds in hisdorie-
"De schildern of dat schild is rich,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent oonto a bicture sale.
Of frames wort' many a cent,
De broperty of a shendleman,
Who oonto Europe vent.
"Don't gry - he'll soon pe pack again
Mit anoder gallerie:
He sells dem oud dwelf dimes a year,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to dis berson's house,
To see his furnidure,
Sold oud at aucdion rite afay,
Beremdory und sure.
"He geeps six houses all at vonce,
Each veek a sale dere pe,
Gotts! vot a dime his vife moost hafe!"-
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent to vind a goot cigar,
Long dimes dey roamed apout,
Von veller had a pran new sort,
De fery latest out
"Mein freund - I dinks you errs yourself
De shmell ish oldt to me;
Dat Infamias Stinkadores brand,"-
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to de virst hotel,
De prandy make dem creep,
A trop of id's enough to make
A brazen monkey veep.
"Dey say a viner house ash dis,
Vill soon ge-bildet pe,
Crate Gott! - vot can dey mean to trink?"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented droo de Irish shtreeds,
Dey saw vrom haus to haus,
Und gountet oop, 'pout more or less,
Vive hoondred awful rows.
"If all dese liddle vights dey waste,
Could von crate pattle pe,
Gotts! how de Fenian funds vouldt rise!"
Said Breitmann, said he.

Dey vent to see de Ridualisds,
Who vorship Gott mit vlowers,
In hobes he'll lofe dem pack again,
In winter among de showers.
"Vhen de Pacific railroat's done,
Dis dings imbrofed vill pe,
De joss-sticks vill pe santal vood,"-
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent to hear a breecher of
De last sensadion shtyle,
'Twas 'nough to make der teufel weep
To see his "awful shmile."
"Vot bities dat der Fechter ne'er
Vas in Théologie,
Dey'd make him pishop in his shoorsh,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent indo a shpordin' crib,
De rowdies cloostered dick,
Dey ashk him dell dem vot o'glock,
Und dat infernal quick.
Der Breitmann draw'd his 'volver oud,
Ash gool ash gool couldt pe,
"Id's shoost a goin' to shdrike six,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent polid'gal meedins next
Dey hear dem rant and rail,
Der bresident vas a forger,
Shoost bardoned oud of jail.
He does it oud of cratitood,
To dem who set him vree:
"Id's Harmonie of Inderesds,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent to a clairfoyand witch,
A plack-eyed handsome maid,
She wahrsagt all deir vortunes - denn
"Fife dollars, gents!" she said.
"Dese vitches are nod of dis eart',
Und yed are on id, I see,
Der Shakesbeare knew de preed right vell,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to a restaurand,
Der vaiter coot a dash;
He garfed a shicken in a vink,
Und serfed id at a vlash.
"Dat shap knows vell shoost how to coot
Und roon mit poulderie,
He vas copitain oonder Turchin vonce,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to de Voman's Righds,
Vhere laties all agrees,
De gals should all pe voters,
Und deir beaux all de votees.
"For efery man dat nefer vorks,
Von frau should vranchised pe:
Dat ish de vay I solfe dis ding,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented oop, dey vented down,
'Tvas like a roarin' rifer,
De sighds vere here - de sighds vere dere-
Und de vorldt vent on forefer.
"De more ve trinks, de more ve sees,
Dis vorldt a derwisch pe;
Das Werden's all von whirling droonk,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

BREITMANN IN POLITICS. (Index)

I.-THE NOMINATION

VHEN ash de var vas ober,
und Beace her shnow-wice vings
Vas vafin' o'er de coondry
(in shpodts) like efery dings
Und heroes vere revardtet,
de beople all pegan
To say 'tvas shame
dat nodings vas done for Breitemann.

No man wised how id vas shtartet,
or vhere de fore shlog came,
Boot dey shveared it vas a cinder,
dereto a purnin' shame:
"Dere is Schnitzerl in de Gustom-House --
potzblitz! can dis dings be!
Und Breitemann he hafe nodings:
vot sighds is dis to see!

"Nod de virst ret cendt for Breitmann!
ish dis do pe de gry
On de man dat sacked de repels
und trinked dem high und dry?
By meine Seel' I shvears id,
und vhat's more I deglares id's drue,
He vonce gleaned oudt a down in half an our,
und shtripped id strumpf und shoe.

"Vhen dey ploondered de down of Huntsville,
I dells you vot, py tam!
He burned oop four biano-fords
and a harp to roast a ham;
Vhen he found de rouge und émail de Paris,
which de laties hafe hid in a shpot,
He whited his horse all ofer -
und denn pinked his ears, bei Gott!

"Vhen he found dat a blace was ploonder-fool,
he alvays tell dem, sure:
'Men, sack und pack! I shoots mine eyes
for only shoost an uhr.'
Boot if de blace vas fery rich,
he vouldt say mit a solemn mien:
'Men - I only shleep for von half uhr more -
ve moost hafe tiscipline.'

"He vas shoost like König Etzel,
of whom de shdory dell,
Der Hun who go for de Romans
und gife dem shinin hell:
Only dis dat dey say no grass vouldt crow
vhere Etzel's horse had trot.
Und I really peliefe vhere Breitmann go,
de hops shpring oop, bei Gott!"

If once you tie a dog loose,
dere ish more soon geds aroundt,
Und vhen dis vas shtartedt on Breitmann
id was rings aroom be-foundt;
Dough vhy he moost hafe somedings
vas nod by no means glear,
Nor tid id, like Paulus' confersion,
on de snap to all abbear!

Und, in facdt, Balthazar Bumchen saidt
he couldtent nicht blainly see
Vhy a feller for gaddrin' riches
shood dus revartedt pe:
Der Breitmann own drei Houser,
mit a weinhandle in a stohr,
Dazu ein Lager-Wirthschaft,
und sonst was - somedings more.

Dis plasted plackguard none-sense
ve couldn't no means shtand
From a narrow-mineted shvine's kopf,
of our nople captain grand:
Soosh low, goarse, betty bornirtheit
a shentleman deplores;
So ve called him verfluchter Hundsfott,
und shmysed him out of toors.

So ve all dissolfed dat Breitmann
shouldt hafe a nomination
To 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,
und derefore knew de robes.

2. - THE COMMITTEE OF INSTRUCTION. (Index)

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 say
Dat de All out-going from de Ones
vash die first Morál Idée.

Und de segondt crate Morál Idée
dat into him ve rings,
Vas dat government for every man
moost alfays do efery dings;
Und die next Idée do vitch
his mindt esbecially ve gall,
Is to do mitout a Bresident
and no government ad all.

Und die fourt' Idée 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's gostin' a cent.^[29]

Und die fift' Idée - 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 tocuments
Vhich he can grap or shteal vill sendt -
franked - mit his gompliments.

Die sechste crate Morál Idée -
since id fery vell ish known
Dat 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 fagdt weren'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 maket oos laugh, py shink!
So de comedy shtart for Breitmann's -
Nota bene - after a trink!

3. - MR. TWINE EXPLAINS BEING "SOUND UPON THE GOOSE." (Index)

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 Bömisch 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 shtock
Of allerbest Markgraefler wein - dazu dwelf glaeser Bock.

Denn Mishder Twine deglare dat he vas happy to denounce
Dat 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, mitwhiles vent 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 use
Vas 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 deir pafemends bass,
So dey shoined de anti-coosers, or de oonder lower glass!"

Here Breitmann led his shdeam out: "Dis shdory goes to show
Dat 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 run
Who 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 friendts wouldt 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 foundt
On 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 refuse
To 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.

II.

4.-HOW BREITMANN AND SMITH WERE REPORTED TO BE LOG-ROLLING (Index)

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 say
Dey 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 oder
A 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 hit
Der 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 the eternal 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 got
For 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 Breitemann
Vould nefer hafe shtood soosh hoompoogks since virst his life pegan:
He hat tone some rough dings in de war, in de ploonder-und-morder line,
Boot vas hoockle