Goot night to dee fine lofe - so lofely und rich,
Mein tress-goat ish shpouted - gon-fount efery stitch!
I dinks dat olt Satan troo all mine affairs,
Lofe, business, und fun, has peen sewin his tares.
My tress-goat ish shpouted - mine tress-goat aint here,
While you in your glorie go shinin, mein tear,
Und de luck of der teufel ish loose ofer all,
Vhile my black pants hang lonely und dark on de wall.
Dis four-goin song vas over-set by der Hans Breitmann from de German of Wilhelm Caspary, whose lyric vas a barody on a dranslation made indo Deutsch by Freiligrath from anoder boem py Sir Waldherr Scott, vitch Sir Waldherr vas kit de idee of from an oldt Scottish ballad vitch pegin mit de vorts-
"My hearts in de Hielands, mein hearts ish nae hier,
Mein hearts in de Hielands, in wilden revier;
It hoonts for de shtag, und id hunts for de reh,
Mein hearts ist im Hochland wo immer ich geh."
Dis is de original Scotch, as goot as I can mineself rememper it. Ven I vas dell der Herr Karl Blind pout dis intercommixture of perplexified dransitions from Scotch to English, and dence into German, and dereafter into a barody, vitch vas be done ofer again indo Herr Breitmann's own slanguage, he sait it vas a Rattenkonig - a phrase too familiar to mine readers to require any wider complication.[66]
ITALY.
——-
BREITMANN IN ROME.
DERE'S lighds oopon de Appian,
Dey shine de road entlang;
Und from ein hundert tombs dere brumms
A wild Lateinisch song;
It rings from Nero's goldnen haus;
Evoe! - here he coom!
Fly oud, ye moenads, from your craves!-
Hans Breitmann's got to Rome!
For vhile de lamp holts oud to purn,
Or von goot shpark ish dere,
Dere's hope for all of dem whose lives
Ish doun in Lempriere.
Von real, shenuine heathen
Is coom at last to home;
Ye shleepin gotts, lift oop your hets-
Hans Breitmann lifes in Rome!
Silenus mit der Hercules,
Dere-to der Maia's sohn,
Ish all unite in Breitmann
To make a stunnin one.
Frau Venus mit de Bacchanals
Ist shmile to see him come;
De Vesta only toorn her pack
Vhen Breitmann kit to Rome.