"He is the man of mortals, The Odin of them all, A higher Incarnation, The "Menschheitsideal,"[82]
A being made to worship, To me an earthly Gott"-- "Py shings!" exglaim Hans Breitmann, "Dis ding is gettin hot!
"O laity! - nople gountess!
Dis man of whom you d.i.n.k Ish lyin" here pefore you, Half tead for want of trink, Likewise for lofe of you, too, Done up mit lofe and durst, Und mit de two togeder, I don"t know vitch is vorst.
"And dou canst safe dy hero From bitter Todespein, If dou hast in de Keller Only one Fa.s.s of wein.
Nay, doubt not - in my pocket Is dot vitch brofes de man, My ba.s.sport, und drei tavern bills Against der Breitemann."
De laity she emprace him Oontil he nearly bust.
"Potz-blitz!" gasp out der Breitmann, "She is a squeezer - yust!"
De dame she vas vealty, Likewise an orphan too, Mit a castel und a t.i.tel, So Breitmann put it troo.
So soon the paar vere marrit,- Hei! vot a dimes dey had!
Hei! how dey life togeder So clorious und clad!
Now he has cot a t.i.tel Dot was a Capitan; Hier hat de tale ein Ende Of Herr Count Breitemann.
COBUS HAGELSTEIN.
ICH bin ein Deutscher, und mein name is Cobus Hagelstein,[83]
I coom from Cincinnati, and I life peyond der Rhein; Und I dells you all a shdory dot makes me mad ash blitz, Pout how a Yankee gompany vas shvindle me to fits.
I heardt apout dis gompany, und vished to see dot same, Das Lebensfeuerversicherunggesellschaft vos ids name; Dot is de name in Sherman - in English it will say Dot it insures your life mit fire, ven you de money pay.
Now, I hod a liddle house-line vhere I life so shtill ash mice, Und yoost drei tausand dollar vos dot little pilding"s brice; I vos always yoost so happy ash ein Kaisar in de land Dill at last I kit in drople, for mein haus vas abgebrannt.
Den I goes undo dot gompany und dells em right afay (Das Lebensfeuerversicherunggesellschaft), und I say, "At last de youngest day ist coom for you to plank de cash, And you moost bay me monies, for mine haus is purned to ash."
Den de segredary answered, "All dis is fery drue, Boot you know ve have de option to pild your house anew; Dere ist a lot of beoples vot burns deir hauser doun, Den coom to kit de money pack all over in de toun."
I look indo de bapers und I find it ash he say, Das Lebensfeuerversicherunggesellschaft need not bay; So I dells em all to go ahet und pild anoder shdore, Und dey make me von in Yankee shdyle more petter ash pefore.
Den I met der segredary dereafter on a day, Of Das Lebensfeuerversicherunggesellschaft, und he say, "You"ve found oos vellers honoraple und honest in our line, Vy tont you go insure de life of Madame Hagelstein?"
I poots mine dum oopon mine nose, and vinks him mit mine eye, Und says I cooms to do it ven de ocean runs dry, Ven gooses turn to ganders, und de bigs kits shanged to shvine; Oh, den I makes insure de life of Madame Hagelstein.
"I haf dried you on insurance, ash you know, yust vonce pefore, Und ven mein haus vas abgebrannt you pild anoder shdore; Id"s drue you pild it goot enough, boot I dell you allaweil, I vas liket id moosh petter if it vas in Sharman shdyle.
"Now, if I goes insure my wife anoder dime mit you Das Lebensfeuerversicherunggesellschaft, I knows vot it would do,- If from dis vorldt Frau Hagelstein should rise to Himmel life, Inshtead of paying gelt you"d kit for me a Yankee vife!"
I poots mine dum pelow mine eye, und vinks him merrily, Und say, "Go find soom Deutscherman dot is more creen ash me.
Dere"s blendy of dem creen enough, I know, peyond der Rhein, But none among dem wears de name of Cobus Hagelstein."
FRITZERL SCHNALL.
A BALLAD.
ASH on de Alapama biz, Deep sinnin long I sat, I d.i.n.ks von ding for d.i.n.kin Py afery Diplomat; Und dat ist: dat voll many a ding Vot ist de facto done, May pe de jure unbossible, Und officiel unknown,
Von dimes in San Franciscus, Im Californian land, Among de Californaments Dere woned a Deutscher band; Und shief among dese heroes Dere shone Herr Fritzerl Schnall, Who nefer vouldt pelief in nichts Dat vas not logical.
Vell den: von tay as Fritzerl Vas valk Dolores Shtreet, Mein Gott! how he vas over-rush Ein gut oldt friendt to meet; Hans Liederschnitz aus Augsburg, Vot professed in Bayrisch bier- "Gottskreuz! du alter Schlingel!"
Cried Fritz: "Was mochst du hier?"
Now in des dimes I scribe of, Dree ways der vere bakannt, Und only dree, to get to Das Californigen Landt.
De virst de Plains coom ofer; De next, de Istmoos troo; De dird aroundt Cape Horne, All ofer de ocean plue.
But de first lot of surveyors For de railroad overland, Vas seek a new vay northwarts, All for de Eisenbahn, Und mit dem, der professor Of Lager vent along; So he kommed to San Franciscus, Und den into dis song.
But ash unto Herr Fritzerl Dis news vas unerheard, He couldt not know de tidings Wherevon he had no vord; Und derefore dis here quesdion He makes to Hans: "Old hoss, I kess de vay you kit hier, You kommed de Blains agross?"
"Nein, nein," sayt Liederschnitzerl; "I komm not ash you say."
"Vell, den," antworded Fritzerl, "It pe"s anoder vay.
If you komm de Blains not uber, I see vot you hafe do: You make an longer um-way Und gross de Istmoos troo."
"Nein, nein," acain saidt Schnitzerl, "Dat road I nefer know, Und vas not ride de Istmoose!"
Cried Fritz, erstaunisched, "SO You komm de Blains not uber, Nor gross de Istmoose troo?
Vell, den - to make de Horn aroundt Vas all dat you could do!"
"I shvears py Gott!" says Schnitzerl, "So sure as you vas p.o.r.n, Exshept oopon some ochsen I nefer saw a horn.
Dat ish - mitwiles, too - while-en-- I hafe von in mine hand, Und trink to dy Gesundheit, Im lieben Vaterland."
Erstaunished stoot der Fritzerl: No wort herout brought he: Und sinned, und sinned - den sighftserd.
"Potz blitz! how vash dis pe?"
Ontill a light from Himmel Vlash down into him shtraight, Ash Heafen in Yacob Bohme Vlash from a bewter blate.
Den laut he cry, eye-shbarklin, Ash droonk mit Truth tifine, Like der Wahrheitseher Novalis: "Herr Gott! es leuch"t mir ein!
If you komm de Blains not over, Nor py Horn, nor py ca.n.a.l, Den I shwears you dis, Hans Schnitzerl, Du bist not here at all!"
MORAL.
Go in for Wahrheit, Und for Pure Reason seek; If it land you in a pog-hole, Den die dere - like a brick!
Gott brosber all logikers, Und pless deir nople breed; Und so ist komm zu ende Dis Breitmanns letzte Lied.
THE GYPSY LOVER.
DOT vos a schwartz Zigeuner[84]
Dot on a viddle played, Und oonderneat" a fenster He mak"t a serenade.
Dot vos a lofely gountess Who heardt de gypsy blay"n.
Said she, "Who make dot musik Vot sound so wunderscheen?"
Dot vos de schwartz Zigainer Who vos fery quick to twig; Und he song a mournvoll pallad How his hearts vos proken - big!
Dot vos de lofely gountess Said, "Dell me who you are?"
He saidt, "Mein name is Janosch, De Lord of Temesvar."