Upon thy case, what joy I felt
To find a place where thou hast dwelt,
My Punsch!
Yet wit and wisdom, even thine,
Can't wake up Berne, where folks supine
All go to bed at half-past nine,
My Punsch!
What art or jokes could entertain,
Such sleepy people? True, they feign
It's later, for they say "halb zehn,"