I dinks mine head vas schplit apart,
He kicks up such a touse—
But never mind, der boys vas few
Like dot leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He asks me questions sooch as dese:
Who baints my nose so red?
Who vas it cuts dot schmoot blace out
Vrom der hair upon mine head?
Und vere der plaze goes vrom der lamp
Vene’er der glim I douse—