There floated Gustavus Schwab as well,
A Pfizer, a Kölle, a Mayer;
On each of them stood a Swabian face,
Each holding a wooden lyre.
There floated Birch-Pfeiffer, a brig which bore
On its mast the escutcheon olden
Of the famous German Admiralty,
On tatters black-red-golden.
We boldly clamber’d on bowsprit and yard,
And bore ourselves like sailors;
Our jackets were short, our hats betarr’d,
And our trousers as big as a tailor’s.
Full many, who formerly sipp’d but tea
As husbands kind and forbearing,
Now drank their rum, their pigtail chew’d,
And, seaman-like, took to swearing.
So bright was our vision, we well nigh won
A naval victory splendid;
But when return’d the morning sun,
Both fleet and vision had ended.
We still were lying at home in bed,
Our limbs all over it sprawling;
We rubbed the sleep from out of our eyes,
The following wise speech bawling:
“The world is round; why seek to be tost
“On the idle billows, faint-hearted?
“When we sail round the world, at last we return
“To the point from which we started.”
THE GOLDEN CALF.
Fiddle, flute, and horn uniting,
To the idol-dance inviting—
Round the golden calf with springing
All of Jacob’s daughters come—
Brum—brum—brum—
Kettle drums and laughter ringing!
Girding up their tunics lightly,
Clasping hands together tightly,
Noble maidens, off’rings bringing,
Twist, like whirlwinds at the least,
Round the beast—
Kettle drums and laughter ringing!