Yet vild ash vas de pattle,
So quickly vas it o'er,
O, vhy moost I forefer
Pestain mine page mit gore?
Py liddle und py liddle
Dey drawed demselfs afay,
Oft toornin' round to vighten
Like boofaloes at bay.
De scatterin shots grew fewer,
De scatterin gries more shlow,
Und furder troo de forest
Ve heard dem vainter grow.
Ve gife von shout - "Victoria!"
Und denn der Breitmann said,
Ash he wiped his ploody sabre:
"Now, poys, count oop your dead!"
Oh small had been our shoutin
For shoy, if ve had known
Dat der Stossenheim im oaken wald,
Lay dyin all alone.
Vhile his oldt vhite horse mit droopin het
Look dumbly on him doun,
Ash if he dinked, "Vy lyest dou here
Vhile fightin's goin on?"
Und dreams coom o'er de soldier
Slow dyin on de eart;
Of a schloss afar in Baden,
Of his mutter, und nople birt!
Of poverty and sorrow,
Vhich drofe him like de wind,
Und he sighed, "Ach weh for de lofed ones,
Who wait so far pehind!"
"Wohl auf, my soul o'er de moundains!
Wohl auf - well ofer de sea!
Dere's a frau dat sits in de Odenwald
Und shpins, und dinks of me.
Dere's a shild ash blays in de greenin grass,
Und sings a liddle hymn,
Und learns to shpeak a fader's name
Dat she nefer will shpeak to him.
"But mordal life ends shortly
Und Heafen's life is long:-
Wo bist du Breitmann? - glaub'es-[22]
Gott suffers noding wrong.
Now I die like a Christian soldier,
My head oopon my sword:-
In nomine Domini!"-
Vas Stossenheim his word.
O, dere vas bitter wailen
Vhen Stossenheim vas found.
Efen from dose dere lyin
Fast dyin on de ground.
Boot time vas short for vaiten,
De shades vere gadderin dim:
Und I nefer shall forget it,
De hour ve puried him.
De tramp of horse und soldiers
Vas all de funeral knell;
De ring of sporn und carpine
Vas all de sacrin bell.
Mit hoontin knife und sabre
Dey digged de grave a span,
From German eyes blue gleamin
De holy water ran.
Mit moss-grown shticks und bark-thong
De plessed cross ve made,
Und put it vhere de soldier's head
Towards Germany vas laid.
Dat grave is lost mit dead leafs,
De cross is goned afay:
Boot Gott will find der reiter
Oopon de Youngest Day.
Und dinkin of de fightin,
Und dinkin of de dead,
Und dinkin of de organ,
To Nashville, Breitmann led
Boot long dat rough oldt Hanserl
Vas earnsthaft, grim und kalt,
Shtill dinkin o'er de heart's friend,
He'd left im gruenen wald.[23]