Part 26

SPA.

VHEN sommer drees shake fort deir leafs, Ash maids shake out deir locks, Und singen mit de rifulets, Vitch ripplen round de rocks, Und beople swarm land-outwards, Und cities weary men, Hans Breitmann rode de Belgier mark For Spa in Les Ardennes.

Und vhen he came to Spadenland, He found it fein und fair, For dey pour him out de peke schnapps, Dazu elixer rare; Und mit a soldier's inshdink To find a shanse to shoot, Mitout delay he fire afay Right in de Grande Redoute.

De virst shot dat der Breitmann fired He pring de peaches down, For he hit de double zero mit A gold Napoleon. Und ash he raked de shiners in, He hummed a liddle doon: "I kess I tont try dat again," Said he, dis afdernoon.

Boot vhen he coom to rouge et noir, A tear fell tripplin denn, Id look so moosh like goot old dimes, To come dose games again. Yet vhen he lossed a hundred francs, He sadly toorned afay, "I'd rader keep de tiger here, Dan vight him, any day."

Und shtanding py de daple, He saw a French lorette Vat porrowed shpecie all around, Und lossed at efery bet. "Id's all de same mit dis or dat, Or any kind of sin, De lorette or de rolette - bot' Will make de money shpin."

He trinket of Le Pouhon well, Und from La Sauveniere; He tried it ad de Barisart, Und auch de Geronstere. "Dey say dat Troot' lie in a well, So trink from all we can, Und here we'll prove dat Troot is Health," Dat's so, sayd Breitemann.

So long in ruined Franchimont He sat on hollowed ground, Und dinked of Wilhelm de la Marck, Who'd raked dat coontry round. "Mein Gott! how id vas mofe mine heart To read in hishdory, Und find de scattered shinin lights Of vellers shoost like me!

"Dis nople boar-pig of Ardennes, Dis shtately Wallowin lord, Vas make him vamous py de pen, Und glorious py de swordt. Und showed his hero-scholarship, Vhen he wrote to de pishop, 'Satis, Brulabo monasterium Vestrum, si non payatis.'

"Dey say dat in de keller here Dere lifes a coblin briest, Dereto a teufelsjagersmann Vot guard a specie chest. O if I vonce could find de vay, Und spot dat box of checks, I voonder shoost how long 'twould pe Pefore I'd twis deir necks."

Und in de Walk of Meyerbeer, Vhere plashin brooklets ring, He see vhere in de water wild De wood-birds flip deir wing. "Ash de prooklet's lost in de rifer, Und de rifer's lost in de sea, Mine soul kits lost on water 'plain,'" Says Breitemann, says he.

Und ash he walked de Meyerbeer He marcked, peside de way, A rock shoost like a wild boar's head, Vraie tete du sanglier. Der Breitmann heafe a shiant sigh, Und say mit 'motion grand: Von crate idee ish uber all In dis der Schweinpig's land.

He drafel troo de Val d'Ambleve, He lounge de schweet Sept Heures, He shdare indo de window-shops, Und see de painted ware. He looket at de fans und dings, Denn said, "To tell de trut', Dere's painted vares more dear ash dis Oop shdairs in La Redoute."

Und sittin in de Champignon, Vitch rose 'neat Lofe's schweet hand, He read in books of Marmontel, Of Jeannette et Lubin. Id's nice to see Simplicitas Rococoed oop mit vlowers, Und dink soosh virtue shdill may life In dis base vorldt of ours.

'Tvas here, oopon de Spadoumont Deir gottashe used to set; 'Tvas here they keeped von simple cow Likevise an lettuce-bett. Berhaps I hafe crown vorldly since, Yet shdill may druly say, Dat in mine poyhood's tays I vas Apout so good ash dey.

But he vot vant to see dis land, Und has nod time for all: Eash woodland nook und shady brook; On Herr Marcette shouldt call. For he has baintet all to live Vhen de drees demselfs are gone; Und shoost so goot as artist, auch, Ish he bon compagnon.

Farevell, schveet Spa - dou home of vlowers, Of ruin and of rock, Vhere vild pirds sing und de band ish blay Eash day at sefen o'clock. If all de shbrees dat Spa has seen Vere melted into von, De soul vouldt reach Nirwana - lost In transcendental fun.

OSTENDE.

"Hupsa! jonker Jan, Die wel ruiter worden kan."

BOON tidings to der Breitmann came Ash he at table end, Dere's right goot fisch at Blankenberghe, Und oysters in Ostend. Denn to Ostland ve will reiten gaen, To Ostland o'er de sand, Dou und I mit pridle drawn For dere ish de oyster land.

Und vhen dey shtood bei Ostersee, Vhere de waters roar like sin, Dere coom five hundert fischer volk To dake der Breitmann in. "Gotts doonder! Should ve doomple down Amoong de waters plue, I kess you'd vant more help from me Dan I should vant from you!

"If you hat peen vhere I hafe peen Und see vot I hafe see, Vhere de surf rise oop nine tausend feet, In de land of Nieuw Jarsie Und schwimmed dat surf ash I hafe schwimmed, Peside de Jersey stran'"- From dat day fort' de Ostland men Shdeered glear of der Breitemann.

Boot von ding set him schvearin so, I dinked he'd nefer cease, De Ostend oysters kostet more In Ostend als Paris. Hans asked an anciendt fisherman, To 'splain dis if he may, Und says he, "Mijn Heer - dey're beter hier Als ein hundert leagues afay.

"Und as de oysters beter hier Of course dey kostet more"- Der Breitmann dook his bilcrim shdaff, Und toorned him to de toor. Says Hans, "De Vlaemsche fischermen Can sheat de vorldt I pet Dey sheaten von anoder too, All's fisch to a Dutchman's net.

"Der king peginned a palace hier, De palace hat to shtop, He foundt de beoples sheaten so He gife de bildin oop. Aldough das Leben hier ish goot, Ad least Ostend-sibly"- So shpoke der Breitemann und cut Dat city py de sea.

GENT.

"Wie kennt die stad waer alles nog Van Vlaenderens grootheid spreekt? Waer ontrouw, valschheid en bedrog Van schaemte nog verbleekt?" - Ledeganck.

If I hat gold, as I hafe time, I tells you how 'tvere shpent, On efery year I'd shtay a week In Vlanderen's hoofstad, Gent. For, oh! de sveet wild veelins, In dat stad do mofe me so, Vhen I'd dink of all de clorious men Vot life dere long aco.