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No, for me, I'm tired of it.
What we want is the legend Of Klein-Zach...
ALL.
'Tis the legand of Klein-Zach.
HOFFMANN.
Here goes for Klein-Zach!...
Once at the court of Eysenach A little dwarf called Klein-Zach, Was covered o'er with a colbac, And his legs they went clic, clac!
Clic, clac.
There's Klein-Zach.
CHORUS.
Crick, crack, There's Klein-Zach.
HOFFMANN.
He had a hump in place of stomach, His webbed feet seemed to burst a sack, His nose was with tobacco black.
And his head it went crick crack, Crick, crack.
There's Klein-Zach.
CHORUS.
Crick, crack, There's Klein-Zach.
HOFFMANN.
As for the features on his face.
(He becomes absorbed.)
CHORUS.
As for the features on his face.
HOFFMANN (very slowly).
As for the features...
(He rises.)
Oh, her face was charming... I see it, Fine as the day, running after her, I, like a fool, left the house paternal, And fled there'on to woods and vales Her hair, in sombre rolls, On her neck threw warm shades, Her eyes of enveloping azure, Cast about glances fresh and pure.
And as our car without shock or tremor Carried our loves and hearts, her vibrant voice and sweet, To the heav'ns that listened, threw the conq'ring cry, And the eternal echo resounded in my heart.
NATHANAEL.
Oh strangest brain!
Who are you painting! Klein-Zach?
HOFFMANN.
I speak of her...
NATHANAEL.
Who?
HOFFMANN.
n.o.body... nothing, my spirit is dullish.
Nothing. Klein-Zach is better, malformed as he is!
CHORUS.
Flick, flack, There's Klein-Zach.
HOFFMANN (throwing away his gla.s.s).
Peuh!... this beer is detestable, Let's light up the punch and drink; And may the light-headed Roll under the table.
CHORUS.
And may the light headed Roll under the table.
CHORUS.
(The lights go out, Luther fires an immense punch bowl.)
Luther is a brave man, Tire la laire, Tire lan la.
'Tis to-morrow that we poison him, Tire lan laire, Tire lan la.
His cellar is a goodly spot, Tire lan laire.
