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!"