“In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow lands,
Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nürnberg, the ancient, stands.
Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song,
Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them throng.
Memories of the middle ages, when the emperors, rough and bold,
Had their dwelling in thy castle, time-defying, centuries old.
And thy brave and thrifty burghers boasted in their uncouth rhyme,
That their great imperial city stretched its hand through every clime.”
The “uncouth rhyme” was the familiar old proverb which told of the universal trade of the old city, couched in the few words—
Nürnberg’s hand,
Geht durch alle land;
and which may be rendered in our modern vernacular—
“Nürnberg’s hand
Goes through every land.”