JOHANN STRAUSS
[Austria—1804-1849.]
Oh, the good bandmaster Strauss
He is loved in every house
As he makes us, oh, so merry
With his cunning waltzing fairy,
And he drives away the blues
Putting dance sprites in our shoes.
When he was a little lad
He was neither good nor bad
But he ran away from home
And for years and years did roam.
When but fourteen years of age
He was loved by dunce and sage,
And great kings would kiss his hand
When they heard his wondrous band.
When dread Fever sealed his doom
Bandmen stood above his tomb
Playing farewell songs of love
Which they thought would go above,
To that far off mystic land
Where they hoped there was "a band."