THE GERMAN WATERS.
A promenade with tongues alive
That every phrase of OLLENDORFF use;
And "Luther's Hymn" at half-past five
To drag you from the arms of Morpheus;
Fat Germans in their awful "Fracks,"
Pale Frenchmen, too, a bit décolletés,
And dapper Britons with attacks
Of livers and digestions faulty.
A garden fair with "Quellen" foul—
Ach, Himmel! How they taste those "Quellen"!
Then rolls and coffee, next a prowl
Among the shops with JANE or ELLEN;
The mid-day meal at table d'hôte,
All windows closed—a climate hellish!—
With dishes too crackjaw to quote,
And sometimes difficult to relish.
An afternoon of drowsy drives—
How these poor foreigners love driving
To places where, when one arrives,
There's nought for which it's worth arriving!—
A "Belvedere"—like Primrose Hill,
A "Gartenhaus," tobacco-scented;
Yet there they smoke, and moon, and swill,
Quite adipose, and self-contented.
A "Kursaal," very large, and fine;
A Theatre, small, and shabby-splendid;
More beer, more music, ditto wine
(This latter can be much commended).
The Military (each salutes!)
With HANNCHEN on their arm or MARIE;
I wonder where they get those boots—
I mean, of course, the Military.
Lawn-Tennis and an "English Club,"
Frequented now by Lords and Princes,
Where every snobling likes to rub
His elbows with a Peer, who winces;
The tittle-tattle of the cliques,
Some half-proposals for our daughters—
Such is the life that makes for weeks
A fortune—for the German Waters!