The Breitmann Ballads - novelonlinefull.com
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Dot vos de lofely gountess Said, "Come more near to me, I vants to dalk on piz'ness: I'll trow you down de key."
Dot vos de moon kept lightin'
De gountess in her room, Boot somedings moost have vrighten De minstrel tid not coom.
Dot vos a treadfool oudgry Ven early in de morn Dey foundt de hens vos missin, Und all de wash vos gone!
Dot vos a schwartz Zigeuner Vot sot oopon de dirt A-eatin roasted schickens All in a new glean shirt.
DORNENLIEDER.
I.
FOR efery Rose dot ploome in spring, Dey say an maid is p.o.r.n; For efery pain dot Rose vill make Dey say dere comes a dorn.
Boot let dem say yoost vot dey will, Dis ding I will soopose, I'll immer p.r.i.c.k mein finger still, If I may pfluck die Ros'.
Ach, Rosalein, du schone mein,[85]
Dot man vas nefer born Vot did deserfe to win de Rose, Vot couldt not stand de Dorn.
Blutfarbig ist die schone Ros',[86]
Und dot ist yoost a sign Dot I moost lose a liddle Blut To make de Rose mein.
Wer Rosen bricht die Finger sticht; Das ist mir ganz egal, Der bricht sie auch in Winter nicht, Und kits no Rose at all.
Was wir hier treiben und kosen, love, De joy or misery, Soll bleiben unter der Rosen, love!
Und our own secret pe![87]
II.
Von Dorn ride out in hoonting gear, Mit his horse und his Hunde too, Und his mutter she say, "Bring home a deer, Mein Sohn, votefer you do!"
"You know, gewiss, dot I nefer miss, Und ven you hear mine horn, Pe sure dot a deer is comin' here,"
Said der Ritter Veit von Dorn, Mit his deer so fein, tra la la la!
Mit his deer so fine, tra le!
Tra la la - tra la la la!
Tra la la - la la le!
Von Dorn he ridet im greenen wood Till dere, peneat a dree, He sah a maid wie Milch und Blut.
As fair ash a maid could pe.
Und der Ritter he spies her great plack eyes, "Id's petter, I'll pe shwore, To hafe a dear oopon two feet Dan von dot roons on four.
Mit a deer so fein, tra la la la!
Mit a deer so fine, tra le!
Tra la la - tra la la la!
Tra la la - la de le!
Der Ritter ridet pack to home: "Ach, mutter - all ist goot; I prings you here de finest dear In all de greene woot."
De mutter she looks, mit joy surprise, "Hast Recht, mein lieber Sohn;[88]
Dere vas nefer a deer vot hafe soosh eyes Ash de dear vot you hafe won!"
Mit her eyes so plack, tra la, la la!
Mit her eyes so plack, tra le!
Tra, la, la - tra la, la, la!
Tra la la - la de le!
Nota bene. - Dis song moost pe sung mit exbression.
- FRITZ SCHWACKENHAMMER [Redaktor].
BREITMANN'S SLEIGH-RIDE.
VEN de winter make oos shifer Und de bonds is froze mit ice, To shlide und shkate on de rifer, Mit de poys und gals is nice.
Ven de horses hafe deir bits on, Und de roats pe vite mit shnow, To vly in a sleigh like blitzen Is de yolliest dings I know.
"Und its high, hooray!" saidt Breitmann "For de gals on de Dutchtown-side; Und it's lebe hoch! for de yunglins, Vot'll go mit de gals to ride; Und it's hip, herje! for de drifers Vot nefer dake no odds!
Und it's vivat! for de vellers, Vot'll shtand de apple-tods!"
Der Breitmann pooled his mits on, Der Breitmann crocked his vip, "Now its fly like dunner blitzen, Mein shildren, let 'er rip!
Like de eagles on de shtorm-cloudt A-vlyin' to deir nest; Dere is opple-yack a-vaitin For de von dot times de rest.
"Oh mein Rapp, du bist de pestest Of horses in de land!
Dou canst trafel on de grafel, Und canst sh.e.l.l it on de sand!
Oh Rapp! - dere's money on id, Ton't let de Gelt go blue!
I vants you show de beoples Dis tay vot you can do!"
Der Breitman mit his madchen Vas in a shblent.i.t shleigh, Fritz Laufer mit his Mina, Vas yoosht agross de vay; Mit pop-slets und mit yoompers, Mit horses and mit mules, Dere vas more ash vifty fellers Come mit deir ve-hi-cules.
Id's "Ein-Zwei-Drei!" togedder Dey hollered klein und gross, Like de wind in shtormy wetter, Stracks vent de Deutschers los!
Dey crock de vips like mooskets, Dey ring from berg to berg, "Hooray!" exsglaim Hans Breitmann: "Dot sounds like Gettysburg!"
Der Breitmann und der Laufer Vere half a mile ahet, For ven id coom to driven, De oder Dootch vere deadt.
Dey vly like teufel's arrows, Mit imps oopon em gay, Dey killt five hoondred shbarrows Vot kit indo de vay.
Dey vly like rats und blitzen, De fery gals vos doomb, Und Breitmann kept his wits on, To see vot shanse vouldt coom; He know'd de pace dey clipped it Moost enden in a shquall By de vay der Laufer ripped it, Und de shteeds vere ganz egal.
Der Laufer he vos leadin'
Hans Breitmann ash he goed, Boot he tidn't see a soplin'
Dot vos lyin' in de road.
Id yank dem out like marples, Mitout a will or shall; Hets downvarts in a shnow-pank, Vent Laufer mit his gal.
Und ash Breitmann comed oonto it Id kit indo his vay, Und tossed him mit his madchen Right indo Laufer's shleigh; Hans crab de reins like blitze', Und go ahet like sin: "Adje, mein lieber Fritze![89]
Dis dimes I scoop you in!"
He vly avay like shvallows To vhere a davern lay, Vhere de opple-tod vos ploomin'
Among de Deutschers gay.
Der Breitmann as he vonisht Yoost cast von look pehind, At de lecks of Fritz - und Mina- A-vafin in de wind.
Homburg vor der Hohe, Hesse-Na.s.sau, September 1, 1888.
THE MAGIC SHOES.
IT was stiller, dimmer twilight - amber toornin' into gold, Like young maidens' hairs get yellow und more dark as dey crow old; Und dere shtood a high ruine vhere de Donau rooshed along, All lofely, yet neclected - like an oldt und silent song.
Out shpoke der Ritter Breitmann, "Ven I hafe not forgot, Ich kenn an anciendt shtory of dis inderesdin shpot, Of the Deutscher Middleolter vot de Minnesingers sung, Ven dot olt ruine oben vas a-bloomin, fair, und yung.
