The Breitmann Ballads Part 18

"Cela fous fera misere Que she ne feux bas see; So, vollow mes gonseilles, Et brenez mon afis.

Shai, moi, deux mille boutelles, De meilleur dat man can ashk,[54]

Vich I will gladly sell- Sheap as dirt - ten franks a flask."

De maire look oop to heafen, Wohl nodings could he say, Vhile oud indo de mitnight Der Breitmann rode afay.

Away - atown de falley, Till noding more abbears Boot de glitter of de moonlight, De moonlight on deir spears.

V.

BREITMANN IN BIVOUAC.

HE sits in bivouacke, By fire, peneat' de drees; A pottle of champagner Held shently on his knees; His lange Uhlan lanze Stuck py him in de sand; Vhile a goot peas-poodin' sausage Adorn his oder hand.

Und jungere Uhlanen Sit round mit oben mout'

To hear der Breitmann's shdories Of fitin in de Sout'

Und he gife dem moral lessons, How pefore de battle pops: "Take a liddle brayer to Himmel, Und a goot long trink of schnapps."

Denn his leutenant bemarket: "How voonder shdrange it peen Dat so very many wild pigs Ish dis year in de Ardennes.

Ash I sout dere - donner'r'wetter!- I sah dem coom heraus, Shoost here und dere an Eber Mit a hoondert tousand sows.

"Shoost d.i.n.k of all dese she-picks Vot flet to neutral land!"

Said Breitmann: "Fery easy Ish dis to oonderstand: Dese schwein-picks mit de sauen Vot you saw a-roonin rond, Ish a crate medempsygosis Of the Frantsche demi-monde.

"I hafe readet in de Bible How soosh a coterie Vas ge-toornet into swine-picks, Und roon down indo de see; Boot since de see aint handy, Or de picks vere all too dumm, Dey hafe coot across de porder Und vly to Belgium."

Now ash dey boorst oud laughin, Und got more liquor out, Dey hearden from de sendry A shot und denn a shout.

Und Breitmann crasp his sabre Quick ash de bullet hiss, Und leapin out, demantet, "Herr'r'r'r Gott! vat row ish dis?"

Und bold der Schwabian answert: "Dis minute on de ground Dere comed a Frantschman greepin, On all-fours a-prowlin round.

I ask him vat he vanted; Werda! I gry; boot he Say nodings to my shallenge, Und only answer 'Oui.'

"So I shoot him like der teufels, Und I rader d.i.n.k our friend, Dis sneakin Frank-tiroir, Ish a-drawin to his end."

So dey hoonted in de pushes, Und in avery gorner dig, Boot, mein Gott! how dey vas laughin, Ven dey found a - mordered pig.

Next week dey hear from Paris, Und reat in de Gaulois Of de most adrocious action De vorlt vas efer saw.

How de Uhlan cannibalen, Dis vile und awful prood, Hafe killt a nople Frantschman, Und cut him oop for food.

"Ja - shop him indo sausage, Und coot him indo ham; Und schwear dey'll serfe all oders Exacdly so - py tam!

Sons of France, awake to glory, Let your anciend valor shine!

Und shweep dis Prussian vermin Het und dails indo de Rhine!"

VI.

BREITMANN'S LAST PARTY.

For fear of some missed onder standings, I vould shtate, dat dis is only mean de last Barty dat der Coptain Breitmann has ge given - as yed. Pimepy I kess he gife anoder von, und if I kits an in- leading, or indrotuckshun, I kess I'll go. I am von of de vellers dat vas ad de virst Barty, vhere mine swister-in-law de Madilda Yane vas tantz mit Herr Breitmann.

FRITZ SCHWACKENHAMMER, Olim Studiosus Theologiae, now Uhlan free-lancer, und Segretarius of Coptain Breitmann.

VOT gollops at mitnight, Mit h'roolah and yell, Like der teufel's wild yager Boorst loose out of h.e.l.l?

Vot cleams in the sonrise Bright vlashin in gold?

Das sind die Uhlancers Of Breitmann der bold.

Dey frighten de c.o.o.ntry, Dey ploonder de town; And when dey are oop Die Franzosen co down: For pefore de wild Nors.e.m.e.n De Southron must flee; Ab ira Normannorum Libera nos Domine![55]

How dey sweep de chateaux!

How dey grab oop de hens!

Und gobble de toorkeys Shoot oop in de pens Like de Angel of Deat'

Dey are ragin abroad: You may track dem py fedders Knee-deep in de road.

O der Breitmann ish on, Und der Breitmann is on, Und mit him de Uhlans Are ploonderin gone.

De demon of fengeance His wings o'er em vave, Mit deir fingers like hooks, Und mit maws like de grafe.

Dey coom to a castel, So shplendid, of bricks; Franzosen defend it, Das help em gar nichts.

For de Uhlans hafe take it, Dey smash in de gate, Und inshpired by Gott's fury, Dey shdole all de plate.

From shamber to shamber Dey fighted deir way, Till dead in de hall De Franzosen all lay; Und dere shtood a madchen, So lieblich und hold, Who laugh at de dead Troo her ringlocks of gold.

Denn der Breitmann, all plooty, To'm madel so lind, Spoke courtly und tender: "Vy laughst dou, mein kind?"

Denn de plue-eyed young peaudy, Mit lippe so red, Said, "Vy not shall I laughen?

Vhen Frenchmen are dead.

"I coom here from Deutschland, De shildren to teach; Dey mock me for Deutsch, Und dey sneer at mein sbeech; Und since de war komm, I vas nearly gone mad, You wouldn't peliefe How dey dreet me so pad."

Mit a tear Breitmann bend To de peaudifool miss; "Crate Gott! can'st dou suffer Soosh horrors ash dis?"

His arm round de maiden Der hero has bound, Und it shtaid dere goot vhile, Fore dey got it unwound.

"Ho! fetch me de diamonds!

Ho! sh.e.l.l out de rings!

Mit all in de castle Of dat sort of dings."

Twas brought to de Captain- A donderin load: At de veet of de madchen Dat ploonder he trowed.

"Ho! pring oos champagner!

Und light oop de hall!

Dis night der Herr Breitmann Will gife you a ball.

Dat pile of dead vellers, Vot died for La France, May see, if dey like, How de Shermans can tance."

Dey find laties' garments, Und - troot to confess- Likewise som Frantsch maidens, Who help dem to tress.

De rest of de Uhlans Who hadn't soosh loves, Fixed oop in black clothes Mit white chokers und gloves.

Now hei! for de fittles!

Und hei! for clavier!

For de tantz of de Uhlans- De men of de speer!

How de shendlemen ashk If dey'd blease introduce; How de ladies mit beards Were called Espionnes Prusses!

Hei, ho! how dey tanzet!

Hei, ho! how dey sang!

How mit klingen of gla.s.ses De braun arches rang.

How dey trill from deir hearts Ash dey pour out der wein, De songs of de Oberland,- Songs of der Rhein.