Spoke out of a morning; 'Rem blem!
I'm tired of the sour Hock wine--oh!
I'm off for Jerusalem.
'Far lovelier, neater, and nicer
Are the maids there who give you the cup;
Oh, Chancellor! oh, Mückenhäuser,
Five thousand gold ducats pack up.'
And as before Joppa they anchored
The Chancellor held up his hand:
'Now drain to the dregs your last tankard,