THE KING OF BRENTFORD
After Beranger
There was a King in Brentford,—of whom no legends tell,
But who, without his glory,—could eat and sleep right well.
His Polly's cotton nightcap—it was his crown of state,
He slept of evenings early,—and rose of mornings late.
All in a fine mud palace,—each day he took four meals,
And for a guard of honor,—a dog ran at his heels.
Sometimes to view his kingdoms,—rode forth this monarch good,
And then a prancing jackass—he royally bestrode.
There were no costly habits—with which this King was cursed,
Except (and where's the harm on't)—a somewhat lively thirst;
But people must pay taxes,—and Kings must have their sport;
So out of every gallon—His Grace he took a quart.
He pleased the ladies round him,—with manners soft and bland;
With reason good, they named him,—the father of his land.
Each year his mighty armies—marched forth in gallant show;
Their enemies were targets,—their bullets they were tow.
He vexed no quiet neighbor,—no useless conquest made,
But by the laws of pleasure,—his peaceful realm he swayed.
And in the years he reigned,—through all this country wide,
There was no cause for weeping,—save when the good man died.
The faithful men of Brentford,—do still their King deplore,
His portrait yet is swinging,—beside an alehouse door.
And topers, tender-hearted,—regard his honest phiz,
And envy times departed,—that knew a reign like his.
William Makepeace Thackeray [1811-1863]
KAISER & CO
Der Kaiser auf der Vaterland
Und Gott on high, all dings gommand;
Ve two, ach don'd you understandt?
Meinself—und Gott.
He reigns in heafen, und always shall,
Und mein own embire don'd vas shmall;
Ein noble bair, I dink you call
Meinself—und Gott.
Vile some mens sing der power divine,
Mein soldiers sing der "Wacht am Rhein,"
Und drink der healt in Rhenish wein
Auf me—und Gott.
Dere's France dot swaggers all aroundt,
She's ausgespieldt—she's no aggoundt;
To mooch ve dinks she don'd amoundt,
Meinself—und Gott.
She vill not dare to fight again,
But if she shouldt, I'll show her blain
Dot Elsass und (in French) Lorraine
Are mein—und Gott's.
Dere's grandma dinks she's nicht shmall beer,
Mit Boers und dings she interfere;
She'll learn none runs dis hemisphere
But me—und Gott.
She dinks, goot frau, some ships she's got,
Und soldiers mit der sgarlet goat;
Ach! ve could knock dem—pouf! like dot,
Meinself—und Gott.
In dimes auf peace, brebared for wars,
I bear der helm und sbear auf Mars,
Und care nicht for den dousant czars,
Meinself—und Gott.
In short, I humor efery whim,
Mit aspect dark und visage grim,
Gott pulls mit me und I mit Him—
Meinself—und Gott.
Alexander Macgregor Rose [1846-1898]