“Vhy iss he sick?” asked Emil Muller.
“Yestertay,” explained Louie Knobloch, “he vend on der bicnig, und he eated four dozen charlotte roosters, und he gets der collywopples.”
He illustrated his remarks by significantly rubbing his stomach. “He vas not in goot contition to plow ven ve left.”
“Anyvone vot eadts charlotte roosters ought der be sick,” said Emil Muller decidedly. “He shoult eat dem vhen dey iss a egg. Blay!”
All raised their instruments to their mouths, but he held up a warning finger.
“Anodder t’ing,” he went on to Knobloch. “You dell Heinrich off he vass nod here dermorrow morning ad half basd four in der afdernoon, vhen I gall der rehearsal, arous mit him! Are you retty?”
“Yah!”
“Den plow yourselfs!”
Then began a wild riot of discord, whereupon Emil Muller quickly took his own dented offending cornet from his mouth.