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 treppe,
Dey schveared dey vouldt pass on de ding,
Und not roll down de firstest tam steppe
For a hoondred like Fraulein 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 Fraulein 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 Fraulein von Sling."