Part 34

De souls of anciend brinters From Himmel look down oopon, Und allowed dat in a chapel Dere was nefer soosh carryins on. Dere was Lorenz Coster mit Gutemberg, Und Scheffer mit der Fust, Und Sweynheim mit Pannartz trop deers, Oopon dis teufel's dust.

Dere vas Yankee jours extincted Who lay upon de vloor, Dere vas Soudern rebs destructed, Who vouldt nefer Jeff no more. Ash deir souls rise oop to Heafen, Dey heardt de oldt brinters' calls, Und Gutemberg gifed dem all a kick Ash he histed dem ofer de walls.

Dat ish de vay dese Ballads Foorst vere crooshed in ploot and shdorm, Fool many a day moost bass afay Pefore dey dook dis form. De copy flootered o'er de preasts Of heroes lyin todt, Dis vas de dire peginnin- Das war des Breitmann's Noth.

Dis song in Philadelphia Long dimes ago pegun, In Paris vas gondinued, und In Dresden ist full-done. If any toubt apout de facts, In nople minds ish grew, Let dem ashk Carl Benson Bristed, He knows id all ish drue.

Und now, dese Breitmann shdories In gebrindt in many a lant, Sogar in far Australia Dey're gestohlen und bekannt:- "Geh hin mein Puch in alle VVelt Steh auss was dir kompt zu! Man beysse Dich, man reysse Dich Nur dass man mir nichts thu!"

BREITMANN'S LAST BALLADS.

BREITMANN IN TURKEY.

DERR BREITMANN hear im Turkenreich Vas fighten high und low, "Steh auf, oh Schwackenhammer mein! It's dime for us to go. Zieh dein Kanonenstiefel an, Und schleife Dir das Schwert, Schon lang her han mer nichts gethan, Der Weg ist reitenswerth."

"Oopon vitch side? I hartly know Boot von side in dis war: Dere ist de holy Russ-land All mit a holy Tsar; But I pe not a holy-er, Nor you von Saint, I fear; Out line is holy ploonder, Mit sacred Lager-bier.

"Dere's von Constantinoble-man Vot write to me, und say He kits me an commission To make me Breitmann Bey, Und if I mounts de turpan Und keeps de Muslin law, Und bribes ein wenig, den I rise To Breitemann Pasha.

"Dis much is drue, dat Toorkey is A real Powder land, Und if dey're goin' to touch it off, Vy, ve moost pe on hand. Und if ve shpring into de airs Vhile meddlin' in de fuss, I rader dink some Russian bears Vill shpring along mit us."

Und ven he kit to Turkreich Der Breitmann work like mad, Und kit ein corps togeder,- Mein Gott! vat men he had! Mit Polers und mit Shipsies, Ungaren, Turks, und such, Und allerlei Gesindel. "Hei!" Says Hans: "dis beats de Dutch!"

Den onwards to his Schicksal Und forvarts troo de night, Und oopwarts to his mission, Und downvarts in de vight. Until in de Bulgaren Von night his horse he strode, Und meet a tausand Kossacks Pefore him on de road.

Slap forward rode der Breitmann Right on de Kossack spears, But forvarts coom deir leader And halted his careers, Und gry, "O Turkisch Ritter, I am de Capitan, And if you want a shindy, Step up, and I'm your man."

Dey fightet like der teufel, Dey fightet mit deir swords, Und Breitmann vould hafe kilt him, But 'twas not on de cards, For de Kossack fire a bistol As his retreadt pegan,- Down from his horse all senseless Flop! went der Breitemann.

Vhen he hafe kit his senses, Der Breitmann find he lay Insite a nople castell, Upon a canape; Und py his side a lady So wunderschon to see, Vas shlisin oop a lemon Indo a cop of thee.

Den to himself say Breitmann, Aldough he hold his jaw, "Dis is de vinest womans, Py Gott! I efer saw. Vot lofeliness! vot muscle! Mit efery himmlisch charm! She measures twenty inches, Bei Donner! roundt de arm."

De lady see his glances So noble und so game, Und yust as he reflected She dink of him de same, Und she say, "Wie gehts?" in English, "Du galiant cavalier, Who art pecome de captive All of my bow und spear.

"I am a gal dis mornin', Yestreen I vas a knight, Old hoss - you nearly smashedme, I guess, in that small fight; And if I hadn't shot you I think I should have ran." "Gottshimmel mit Potzbomben! Egsclaim der Breitemann.

"But say, O nople lady, Vot got you in dot set Of plackgards - vilt dou dell me?" De dame rebly: "You bet! My father came from Boston, And when this war began He got a splendid contract, All with the Russi-an,

"To sell the army shoe-strings; But I have read of fights, And I dream of war and glory, For I go for women's rights; Then I read a book of poems Which fairly turned my head, The ballads of Hans Breitmann"-- "Oh --- ho!" Hans Breitmann said.

"And as I think the Breitmann Must be the greatest man Who ever went a-fighting Since History began, I dressed me like a soldier, For I am stark of limb; With Breitmann for a model, And try to act like him.

"Oh, tell me, noble captive, While rolling in this storm Which men call life, hast ever Beheld Hans Breitmann's form? Oh, could I once embrace him, And gaze into his eye, And feel his arms around me, Then I would gladly die.

"He is the man of mortals, The Odin of them all, A higher Incarnation, The 'Menschheitsideal,' 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 dink 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 Fass of wein. Nay, doubt not - in my pocket Is dot vitch brofes de man, My bassport, 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 titel, 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 titel Dot was a Capitan; Hier hat de tale ein Ende Of Herr Count Breitemann.