Stately, and with solemn grandeur,
Dances noble Atta Troll;
Yet his shaggy partner’s wanting
Both in dignity and manners.
Yes, I have a shrewd suspicion
That she is too much accustom’d
To the vulgar shameless dances
At the Grand’-Chaumière at Paris.
E’en the excellent bear-leader,
Who with chain conducts the couple
Seems the immorality
Of her dance to notice plainly.
And he oft bestows upon her
With his whip fast-falling lashes,
And the swarthy Mumma howls then,
And awakes the mountain echoes.
This bear-leader six Madonnas
Wears upon his pointed hat,
To protect his head from bullets
Or from lice perchance it may be.
O’er his shoulder there is hanging,
Many-hued, an altar covering,
Doing office as a mantle;
Knife and pistol lurk beneath it.
He had been a monk when younger,
Then became a robber-captain;
Then, to join the two vocations,
Took the service of Don Carlos.
When Don Carlos had to scamper
With the knights of his round table,
And his paladins were driven
To pursue some honest calling,
(Thus Schnapphahnski turn’d an author)
Then our knight became bear-leader,
And across the country travell’d
Leading Atta Troll and Mumma.
And in sight of all the people,
In the market, they must dance now;
Atta Troll must in the market
Of this city dance in fetters!