He Gets Dhere Shust Dek Same!
Oldt AEsop wrote a fable, vonce,
Aboudt a boasting hare Who say : "Vhen dhere vas racing
You can alvays find me dhere!" Und how a tortoise raced init him,
Und shtopped hees leedle game. Und say : "Eef I don'd been so shpry,
I gets dhere shust der same!"
Dot vas der cases eferyvhere;
In bolidics und trade, By bersbiration off der brow
Vas how soocksess vas made. A man may somedime "shdrike id rich,"
Und get renown und fame, Budt dot bersbiration feller, too,
He gets dhere shust der same.
Der girl dot makes goot beeskits,
Und can vash und iron dings, Maybe don'd been so lofely
As dot girl mit dimondt rings; Budt vhen a vife vas vanted
Who vas id dot's to blame Eef dot girl mitoudt der shewels
Should get dhere shust der same?
Dot schap dot leafes hees peesnis, Und hangs roundt "Bucket Shops,"
To make den tollars oudt off von, Vhen grain und oil shtock drops;
May go avay vrom dhere, soinedimes, Mooch poorer as he came.
"Der mills off God grind shlowly"— Budt dhey get dhere shust der same.
Dhen neffer mindt dhose mushroom schaps
Dot shpring oup in a day; Dhose repudations dhey vas made
By vork, und not by blay. Shust poot your shoulder to der vheel,
Eef you vould vin a name, Und eef der "Vhite House needs you —
You vill get dhere shust der same.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mine Katrine
You vouldn't dink mine frau If you shust look at her now, Vhere der wrinkles on her prow
Long haf been,
Vas der frdulein blump und fair, Mit der wafy flaxen hair, Who did vonce mine heart enshnare—
Mine Katrine.
Der dime seems shord to me Since ve game acrosd der sea, To der gountry off der free Ve'd neffer seen;
Bud ve hear der beople say Dhere vas vork und blendy bay, So I shtarted righdt avay Mit Katrine.
Oh, der shoy dot filled mine house Vhen dot goot oldt Toctor Krauss Brought us "Leedle Yawcob Strauss,"
Shveet und clean; Vhy, I don'd pelief mine eyes Vhen I look, now, mit surbrise, On dot feller, shust der size
Off Katrine!
Den "dot leedle babe off mine," He vas grown so tall und fine— Shust so sdrait as any pine You effer seen,
Und der beoples all agree Sooch fine poys dhey neffer see. (Dhey looks much more like ine As Katrine.)
Veil, ve haf our criefs und shoys, Und dhere's naught our lofe destroys, Budt I miss dhose leedle poys
Dot used to been; Und der tears vill somedime sdart, Und I feels so sick at heart, Vhen I dinks I soon must part
From Katrine.
Oldt Time vill soon pe here, Mit his sickle und his shpear, Und vill vhisper in mine ear Mit sober mien:
" You must cooin along mit me, For id vas der Lord's decree; Und von day dhose poys you'll see Und Katrine."
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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"No Shildren In Der House."
Vagation dime vas coom again,
Vhen dhere vas no more shgool; I goes to boardt, der coundtry oudt,
Vhere id vas nice und cool. I dakes Katrina und Loweeze,
Und leedle Yawcob Strauss; Budt at der boarding-house dhey dakes
" No shildren in der house.
I dells you vot! Some grass don'd grow
Under old Yawcob's feet Undil ve gets a gouple-a-miles
Or so vay down der shtreet.
I foundt oudt all I vanted—
For de resd I don'd vould care —
Dot boarding-blace vas nix for me Yhen dhere been no shildren dhere.
Vot vas der hammocks, und der shvings,
Grokay, und dings like dhese, Und der hoogleperry bicnics,
Mitoudt Yawcob und Loweeze? It vas von shdrange conondhrum,
Dot vas too mooch tor Strauss, How all dhose beople shtandt id
Mit no shildren in der house.
"Oh, vot vas all dot eardthly bliss, Und vot vas man's soocksess;
Und vot vas various kindt off dings, Und vot vas habbincss?"
Dot's vot Hans Breitmann ask, von dime-
Dhey all vas embty soundt! Dot eardthly bliss vas nodings
Vhen dhere vas no shildren roundt.
Vhen "man's soockscss," down here pelow,
Und "eardthly bliss" vas past, Und in dot beddher blace abofe
Ve seek a home at last; Oh, may dhose "Gates off Paradise"
Shving open far und vide, Und ve see dhose "Heafenly mansions"
Mit der shildren all inside.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Vas Marriage a Failure?
Vas marriage a failure? "Veil, now, dot depends Altogeddher on how you look at it, mine friends. Like dhose double-horse teams dot you see at
der races,
It depends pooty much on der pair in der traces; Eef dhey don'd pool togeddher righdt off at der
shtart, Ten dimes oudt off nine dhey van beddher apart.
Vas marriage a failure? Der vote vas in doubt; Dhose dot's oudt vould be in, dhose dot's in
vould be oudt:
Der man mit oxberience, good looks und dash, Gets a vife mit some fife hundord dousand in
cash,
Budt, after der honeymoon, vhere vas der honey? She haf der oxberience — he haf der money.
Vas marriage a failure? Eef dot vas der case, Vot vas to pecome off der whole human race? Vot you dink dot der oldt "Pilgrim fader?
vould say, "Who came in dot Sunflower to oldt Plymouth
Bay,
To see der fine coundtry dis peoples haf got, Und dhen hear dhem ask sooch conondhrums
as dot?
Vas marriage a failure ? Shust go, ere you tell,
To dot Bunker Mon Ilillument, vhere Varren fell;
Dink off Yashington, Franklin, nnd "Honest Old Abe" —
Dhey vas all been aroundt since dot first Plymouth babe.
I vas only a Deutscher, budt I tells you vot!
I pelief, every dime, in sooch "failures" as dot.
Vas marriage a failure? I ask mine Katrine, Und she look off me so dot I feels pooty mean. Dhen she say: "Meester Strauss, shust come
here eef you blease," Und she take me vhere Yawcob und leedle
Loweeze By dheir shnug trundle-bed vas shust saying
dheir prayer, Und she say, mit some pride: "" Dhere vas no
failures dhere!"
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dee Coming Man
I Vant some invormashun, shust so qvickly vot
I can, How I shall pring mine Yawcob oup to been der
coming man, For efery day id seem to me der brosbect look
der harder To make dot coming man imbrove ubon dot going
fader. 'Tvas beddher he vas more like me, a Deutscher
blain und rude, As to been abofe hees peesnis und grown oup to
been a dude.
I doil'd oxshbect dot poy off mine a Vashington
to be, Und schop mit hadchets all aronndt ubon mine
abblcdree, So he can let der coundtry know he echmardter
vas- as I, Und got scheap adverdising dot he don'd could
dell a lie : Mine Yawcob lets der drees alone undil der fruit
dhey bear, Und dhen dot feller he looks oudt und gets der
lion's share.
Some say 'tvas beddher dot you teach der young
ideas to shoot; Veil, I dink dis aboudt id : dot advice id vas no
goot! Dot poy vonce dook hees broder oudt nnd dhey
blay Yilliam Tell, Budt Yawcob vas no shooter —he don'd do id
pooty veil; Dot arrow don'd go droo der core, budt id vent
pooty near — Shust near enough to miss id und go droo hees
broder's ear.
He dravels mit hees buysickle in efery kind off
redder, Und dough he vas a demperance poy, somedimes
he dakes a "header": I don'd know shust oxactly vot dot vas—'tis vorse
as bier— Shust like he shtrike a cyglone und valk righdt
off on his ear ! I ask von time aboudt id, budt dot poy he only
grumble, Und say I beddhcr try id vonce, dhen maybe I
vould "tumble."
Dot Yawcob says dot ve vas boor, vmd he vants
to be richer, Und dot der coming man must been a virsd-glass
pase-pall pitcher ; He say he must be "shtriking oudt und try nnd
"make a hit," Und dells me I vas "off mine pase" vhen I makes
fun off it; Vhen I say he soon must baddle hees canoe "oudt
on der schwim," He say dot von off Hanlan's shells vas goot
enough for him.
Dot Shakesbeer say aboudt der son dot's brofligate
und vild : "How sharper as a serpent's thanks vas been der
toothless shild!" (I got dot leedle dwisted; I mean dot thankless
youth He cuts hees poor oldt fader more as a serpent's
tooth.) Und dhen der broverb dells us dot der shild he
must obey, Und dot eef you should shpare der rod you shpoil
him righdt avay.
Vell, Yawcob he vas pooty goot—I guess I don'd
gomblain, I somedimes vish, mineself, dot I vas been a poy
again. I lets him blay mit pase-pall, und dake headers
vhile he can. I prings him oup mit kindness, und I risk der
coming man. Let neighbor Pfeiffer use der shtick, vhile Otto
howls und dances ; I'll shpoil der rod und shpare der shild, I dink,
und dake der shances.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Yawcob's Dribdlations
Maybe dot you don'd rememper,
Eighdeen — dwendy years ago, How I dold aboudt mine Yawcob —
Dot young rashkell, don'd you know, Who got schicken-box und measles;
Filled mine bipe mit Limburg scheeze; Cut mine cane up indo dhrum-schticks,
Und blay all sooch dricks as dhese.
Yell! dhose times dhey vas been ofer,
Und dot son off mine, py shings! Now vas taller as hees fader,
Und vas oup to all sooch dhings Like shimnastic dricks und pase-pall;
Und der oder day he say Dot he boxes mit " adthledics,"
Somevheres ofer on Back Bay.
Times vas deeferent, now, I dold you,
As vhen he vas been a lad; Dhen Katrine she make hees drowsers
Vrom der oldt vones off hees dad; Dhey vas cut so full und baggy
Dot id dook more as a fool To find oudt eef he vas going,
Or vas coming home vrom school.
Now, dhere vas no making ofer
Off mine clothes to make a suit For dot poy — der times vas exchanged;
"Der leg vas on der oder boot;" For vhen hees drowsers dhey gets dhin,
Und sort off "schlazy" roundt der knee, Dot Mrs. Strauss she dake der sceessors
Und she cuts dhem down for me.
Shnst der oder day dot Yawcob
Gife me von elecdric shock, Vhen he say he vants fife-hundord
To invesht in railroadt schtock. Dhen I dell him id vas beddher
Dot he leaf der schtocks alone, Or some feller dot vas schmardter
Dake der meat imd leaf der bone.
Und vhen I vas got oxcited,
Und say he get "echwiped" und fooled, Dheri he say he haf a "pointer"
Yrom soom friendts off Sage und Gould; Und dot he vas on " rock bottom;"
Had der "inside track" on "Atch "
Dot vas too mooch for hees fader,
Und I coom oup to der scratch.
Dhen in bolitics he dabbles,
Und all qvesdions, great und schmall, Make no deeferent to dot Yawcob —
For dot poy he knows id all. Und he say dot dhose oldt fogies
Must be laid oup on der shelf, Und der governors und mayors
Should pe young men — like himself.
Yell! I vish I vas dransborted
To dhose days off long ago, Vhen dot schafer beat der milk-ban
Und schkydoodled droo der schnow. I could schtand der mumbs nnd measles,
Und der ruckshuns in der house; Budt mine presendt dribulations
Vas too mooch for Meester Strauss.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
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Mine Vamily
Dimbled scheeks, mit eyes off plue, Mout' like id vas moisd mit dew, Und leedle teeth shust peekin' droo- Dot's der baby.
Curly head, und full off glee, Browsers all oudt at der knee— He vas peen blaying horse, you see— Dot's leedle Yawcob.
Von hundord-seexty in der shade, Der oder day vhen she vas veighed- She beats me soon, I vas avraid— Dot's mine Katrina.
Barefooted head, und pooty stoudt, Mit grooked legs dot vill bend oudt, Fond off his bier und sauer-kraut— Dot's me himself.
Von schmall young baby, full off fun, Von leedle prite-eyed, roguish son, Von frau to greet vhen vork vas done— Dot's mine vamily.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
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Dot Baby Off Mine
Mine cracious! mine cracious! shust look here und see
A Deutscher so habby as habby can pe!
Der beoples all dink dot no prains I haf got;
Vas grazy mit trinking, or someding like dot:
Id vasn't pecause I trinks lager und vine;
Id vas all on aggount off dot baby off mine.
Dot schmall leedlc vellow I dells you vas qveer;
Not mooch pigger roundt as a goot glass off peer;
Mit a bare-footed hed, und nose but a schpeck;
A mout dot goes most to der pack off his neck;
Und his leedle pink toes mit der rest all combine
To gif sooch a charm to dot baby off mine.
I dells you dot baby vas von off der poys,
Und beats leedle Yawcob for making a noise.
He shust has pecun to shbeak goot English too;
Says " Mamma" und " Papa," und somedimes "Ah, goo!"
You don'd find a baby den dimes oudt off nine
Dot vas qvite so schmart as dot baby off mine.
He grawls der vloor ofer, und drows dings aboudt,
Und poots eferyding he can find in his mout;
He dumbles der shtairs down, und falls vrom his chair,
Und gifes mine Katrina von derrible sckare.
Mine hair shtands like shquills on a mat borcubine
Ven I dinks off dose pranks off dot baby off mine.
Dere vas someding, you pet, I don'd likes pooty vell,
To hear in der nighdt dimes dot young Deutscher yell,
Und dravel der ped-room midout many clo'es,
Vhile der chills down der shpine off mine pack quickly goes:
Does leedle shimnasdic dricks vasn't so fine
Dot I cuts oup at nighdt mit dot baby off mine.
Vell, dese leedle schafers vas going to pe men,
Und all off dese droubles vill peen ofer den:
Dey vill vear a vhite shirt-vront inshtead off a bib,
Und vouldn't got tucked oup at nighdt in deir crib.
Vell, vell, ven I'm feeble, und in life's decline,
May mine oldt age pe cheered py dot baby off mine!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Zwei Lager
Der night vas dark as anyding,
Ven at mine door two vellers ring,
Und say, ven I ask who vas dhere,
"Git oup und git" — und den dey schvear-
"Zwei lager."
I says, "Tis late: schust leaf mine house,
Und don'd pe making sooch a towse!"
Dey only lauft me in der face,
Und say, "Pring oudt, ' Old Schweizerkase,'
Zwei lager."
I dold dem dot der bier vas oudt;
But dose two snaps set oup a shout,
Und said no matter if 'tvas late,
Dot dey moost haf "put on der schlate!
Zwei lager.
"Oh! go avay, dot is goot poys,"
Mine moder says, "und schtop der noise:"
But sdill dem vellers yellt avay;
Und dis vas all dot dey vould say, —
"Zwei lager."
"Vot makes you gome I" mine taughter said,
"Ven beoples all vas in deir ped:
Schust gome to-morrow ven you're dhry."
But dem two plackguards sdill did cry,
"Zwei lager."
"Vot means you by sooch dings as dese
I go und calls for der boleese,"
Says SchneigeH'ritz, who lifs next door:
Dey only yellt more as pefore.
"Zwei lager."
" You schust holdt on a leedle vhile,"
Says mine Katrina mit a schmile:
"I vix dose shaps, you pet my life,
So dey don'd ask off Pfeiffer's vife
Zwei lager."
Den righdt avay she got a peese
Of goot und schtrong old Limburg cheese,
Und put it schust outside der door;
Und den ve didn't hear no more
"Zwei lager."
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Kuch Kehna Hey Tumse
KUCH KEHNA HEY TUMSE
kuch kehna hey tumse..
uhi Batalaya Nahi karte..
Dhere-Dhere uhi chup-chup ke..
kuch kehna hey tumse..
Band khidki se Dekhey tuje ab kese..
BEEN Mousam Barsat Barse to bhi kese...
kuch kehna hey tumse..
uhi Batalaya Nahi karte..
jo Dekha ek khawab kehkash Nighone..
DiL-DiL u milane se pehle...
kuch kehna hey tumse..
uhi Batalaya Nahi karte..
Diya or Bati ki tarha hona hey jo roshan...
musukrhat ke badal saja ne hey sada...
uhi kese samjaye been bole kese ab reh paye..
kuch kehna hey tumse..
uhi Batalaya Nahi karte..
Dor-Dor beth ke u ku sarmana..
Naav ko kabhi to hey kinare hey lana....
kyu tanha ab hey rehna paas ake u kuch kehna...
kuch kehna hey tumse..
uhi Batalaya Nahi karte..
kuch kehna hey tumse..
uhi Batalaya Nahi karte..
-SANDEEP JAHAAL
poem by Sandeep Jahaal
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Shonny Schwartz
Haf you seen mine leedle Shonny,—
Shonny Schwartz,
Mit his hair so soft und yellow,
Und his face so blump und mellow;
Sooch a funny leedle fellow, —
Shonny Schwartz?
Efry mornings dot young Shonny —
Shonny Schwartz
Rises mit der preak off day,
Und does his chores oup righdt avay;
For he gan vork so vell as blay, —
Shonny Schwartz.
Mine Katrina says to Shonny,
"Shonny Schwartz,
Helb your barents all you gan,
For dis life vas bud a shban:
Py und py you'll been a man,
Shonny Schwartz."
How I lofes to see dot Shonny —
Shonny Schwartz
Vhen he schgampers off to schgool,
Vhere he alvays minds der rule!
For he vas nopody's fool, —
Shonny Schwartz.
How I vish dot leedle Shonny —
Shonny Schwartz
Could remain von leedle poy,
Alvays full off life und shoy,
Und dot Time vould not annoy
Shonny Schwartz!
Nefer mindt, mine leedle Shonny, —
Shonny Schwartz
Efry day prings someding new:
Alvays keep der righdt in view,
Und baddle, den, your own canoe,
Shonny Schwartz.
Keep her in der channel, Shonny, —
Shonny Schwartz:
Life's voyich vill pe quickly o'er;
Und den ubon dot bedder shore
Ve'll meet again, to bart no more,
Shonny Schwartz.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
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Kaiser and Co. Or Hoch der Kaiser
[Being Wilhelm der Grosser's estimate of himself and partner, translated from the original Hoch-deutsch.]
Der Kaiser auf der Vaterland
Und Gott on high all dings gommand,
Ve two! Ach! don'd you understandt?
Meinself -- und Gott.
He reigns in Heafen, und always shall,
Und mein own Embire don'd vas small;
Ein noble bair, I dink you call
Meinself -- und Gott.
While some men sing der power divine,
Mein soldiers sing der "Wacht am Rhein,"
Und drink der healt in Rhenish wein,
Auf me -- und Gott.
Dere's France dot swaggers all aroundt,
She ausgespieldt -- she's no aggoundt,
To mooch ve dinks she don't amoundt:
Meinself -- und Gott.
She vill not dare to fight again,
But if she should, I'll show her blain
Dot Elsass und (in French) Lorraine
Are Mein -- und Gott's.
Von Bismarck was a man auf might,
Und dought he vas glean oud auf sight,
But ach! he vas nicht goot to fight
Mit me -- und Gott.
Ve knock him like ein man auf sdraw,
Ve let him know whose vill vas law,
Und dot ve don'd vould sdandt his jaw,
Meinself -- und Got.
Ve send him oudt in big disgrace,
Ve gif him insuldt to his face,
Und put Caprivi in his place,
Meinself -- und Gott.
Und ven Caprivi get svelled headt,
Ve very brombtly on him set,
Und toldt him to get vp and get --
Meinself -- und Gott.
Dere's Grandma dinks she's nicht shmall beer,
Mit Boers und dings she interfere;
She'll learn none runs dis hemisphere
But Me -- und Gott.
She dinks, goot frau, some ships she's got,
Und soldiers mit der sgarlet coat,
Ach! ve could knock dem -- pouf! like dot,
Meinself -- und Gott.
Dey say dat badly fooled I vas
At Betersburg by Nicholas,
Und dat I act shust like ein ass
Und dupe, Herr Gott.
Vell, maybe yah und maybe nein,
Und maybe Czar mit France gombine
To take dem lands about der Rhein
From me -- und Gott.
But dey may try dot leedle game,
Und make der breaks; but all der same,
Dey only vill increase der fame
Auf me -- und Gott.
In dimes auf beace, brebared for wars
I bear der helm and sbear auf Mars,
Und care nicht for ten dousand Czars,
Meinself -- und Gott.
In short, I humour efery whim,
Mit aspect dark and visage grim,
Gott pulls mit me und I mit Him --
Meinself -- und Gott.
poem by Alexander MacGregor Rose
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Yaw, Dot Ish So!
Yaw, dot ish so! Yaw, dot ish so!
"Dis vorldt vas all a fleeting show."
I shmokes mine pipe,
I trinks mine bier,
Und efry day to vork I go;
"Dis vorldt vas all a fleeting show;"
"Yaw, dot ish so !
Yaw, dot ish so! Yaw, dot ish so!
I don'd got mooch down here below,
I eadt and trink,
I vork und shleep,
Und find oudt, as I oldter grow,
I haf a hardter row to hoe;
Yaw, dot ish so!
Yaw, dot ish so! Yaw, dot ish so!
Dis vorldt don'd gife me haf a show;
Somedings to vear,
Some food to eadt;
Vot else ? Shust vait a minude, dough;
Katriua, und der poys! Oho!
Yaw, dot ish so!
Yaw, dot ish so! Yaw, dot ish so!
Dis vorldt don'd been a fleeting show.
I haf mine frau,
I haf mine poys,
To cheer me daily, as I go;
Dot's pest as anydings I know;
Yaw, dot ish so!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Not Too Bad
De cottage vas close py der garden gate,
It vas not mighdty hardt to find it,
A couple of gum-trees grew shoost in front,
Und a pig\shty grew shoost pehind it.
Dere vos milk-cows und sheep on der clover-flat
Und a creek vhere der vater ran,
Der misdress of all, vas der Vidder McCaul,
Und I vos her handy man.
Ach, shveet vas der ploom on der orchard-trees,
Und lofely der flowers in shpring;
But, der vidder's daughter. Yemima Ann,
She vas shveeter ash efferyting.
She valked on der ferry ground I lofed,
Und her eyes were so lofely prown,
Dat vheneffer I see dat she looked at me,
Vhy, I felt mineself top-side down.
I lofed mine life ash I lofed dat girl,
Und a vik from her tvinkling eye
Ash I helped her moundt on der old prown mare
Made me feel apout ten feet high.
Vhen she cantered home ash der sun vent down,
Und I lifted her oop to der ground,
Vhen I felt her yoomp, mine heardt vent boomp,
Und I felt apout twelfe feet round.
So I shpeaks to mineself,' I must hafe dat girl,
For mithout her I aint no use;'
So I tole her von day vhat a duck she vas,
Und she tell me I vas a coose.
Den a shearer coomed town from der Lachlan,
Pout ash tall ash a wool-shed toor,
Und he took her avay on a pullock-tray,
Und she neffer comes pack some more.
So I vent, vat you calls, ' clean off your shoomps,'
I crinds oop mine teeth und schvear;
I knocks mineself town mit a pag of shaff,
Und I picks mineself oop py mine hair.
I shvears I could hang and trown mineself,
Und fill mineself oop mit shot too;
Put, shoost vhen I run to get mine gun,
Der vidder, she tole me not to.
She said, ash she fried me some eggs for mine tea,
Und her tears shpluttered in der pan,
'Vas it not goot enough to her daughter lose,
Mithout losing her handy man?
Vas der fish not askh good vhat vas in der sea
Ash der fish vhat vas taken oudt?
If der shnapper I sought vas got shnapped oop und caught,
Dere vas plenty more shvimmin spout.'
So I said, 'Do you know vhere dat fish to find,
Apout vat you gone und told me?'
Und I town-sat mineself py der vidder's side,
(Und the vidder she neffer shcold me).
Ash der vidder she mix oop her tears mit mine,
I got prave und mine heardt grew polder;
So mine left arm I placed round der vidder's vaist
Und der vidder's head fell on mine shoulter.
Ach, shveet vas der shmell from der new-fried eggs,
Vhich der vidder vas shoost peen frying;
Und shveet vas der glance from der vidder's eye,
(Mit her head on mine shoulter lying).
If I gissed her ten times I gissed her vonce
Pefore effer I thought of shtoppin:
Und der pig pullock-pell in der milk-pan fell,
Und ve neffer heardt it droppin.
I takes mine seat in der parlour now,
In der gitchen I hangs mine hat,
Und der milk-cows feed shoost across der creek,
Und der sheep on her clover-flat.
I shnapped oop der fish dat vas shvimmin apout,
Und I neffer no more got mad,
Und I tinks of a night, ash mine shmoke-pipe I light,
Dat I didn't do - NOT TOO BAD.
poem by Thomas E. Spencer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hans and Fritz
Hans and Fritz were two Deutschers who lived side by side,
Remote from the world, its deceit and its pride:
With their pretzels and beer the spare moments were spent,
And the fruits of their labor were peace and content.
Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor one day,
And, lacking a part of the Geld, — as they say, —
Made a call upon Fritz to solicit a loan
To help him to pay for his beautiful roan.
Fritz kindly consented the money to lend,
And gave the required amount to his friend;
Remarking,—his own simple language to quote,—
"Berhaps it vas bedder ve make us a note."
The note was drawn up in their primitive way, —
"I, Hans, gets from Fritz feefty tollars to-day;"
When the question arose, the note being made,
"Vich von holds dot baper until it vas baid?"
"You geeps dot," says Fritz, "und den you vill know
You owes me dot money." Says Hans, "Dot ish so:
Dot makes me remempers I haf dot to bay,
Und I prings you der note und der money some day."
A month had expired, when Hans, as agreed,
Paid back the amount, and from debt he was freed.
Says Fritz, " Now dot settles us." Hans replies,
"Yaw: Now who dakes dot baper accordings by law ?"
"I geeps dot now, aind't it?" says Fritz ; " den, you see,
I alvays remempers you baid dot to me."
Says Hans, "Dot ish so: it vas now shust so blain,
Dot I knows vot to do ven I porrows again."
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Yawcob Strauss
I Haf von funny leedle poy,
Vot gomes schust to mine knee;
Der queerest schap, der Greatest rogue,
As efer you dit see.
He runs, und schumps, and schmashes dings
In all barts off der house:
But vot off dot? he vas mine son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He get der measles und der mumbs,
Und eferyding dot's oudt;
He sbills mine glass off lager bier,
Foots schnuff indo mine kraut.
He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese,-
Dot vas der roughest chouse:
I'd dake dot vrom no oder poy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum,
Und cuts mine cane in dwo,
To make der schticks to beat it mit,
Mine cracious, dot vas drue!
I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart,
He kicks oup sooch a touse:
But nefer mind; der poys vas few
Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.
He asks me questions sooch as dese:
Who baints mine nose so red?
Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt
Vrom der hair ubon mine hed?
Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp
Vene'er der glim I douse.
How gan I all dose dings eggsblain
To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss ?
I somedimes dink I schall go vild
Mit sooch a grazy poy,
Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest,
Und beaceful dimes enshoy;
But ven he vas ashleep in ped,
So guiet as a mouse,
I prays der Lord," Dake anyding,
But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss."
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Leedle Dutch Baby
Leedle Dutch baby haff come ter town!
Jabber und jump till der day gone down--
Jabber und sphlutter und sphlit hees jaws--
Vot a Dutch baby dees Londsmon vas!
I dink dose mout' vas leedle too vide
Ober he laugh fon dot altso-side!
Haff got blenty off deemple und vrown--?
Hey! Leedle Dutchman come ter town!
Leedle Dutch baby, I dink me proud
Ober your fader can schquall dot loud
Ven he vas leedle Dutch baby like you
Und yoost don't gare, like he alvays do--!
Guess ven dey vean him on beer, you bet
Dot's der because dot he aind veaned yet--!
Vot you said off he dringk you down--?
Hey! Leedle Dutchman come ter town!
Leedle Dutch baby, yoost schquall avay--
Schquall fon preakfast till gisterday!
Better you all time gry und shout
Dan shmile me vonce fon der coffin out!
Vot I gare off you keek my nose
Downside-up mit your heels und toes--
Downside, oder der oopside-down--?
Hey! Leedle Dutchman come ter town!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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De Notaire Publique
M'sieu Paul Joulin, de Notaire Publique
Is come I s'pose seexty year hees life
An' de mos' riche man on Sainte Angelique
W'en he feel very sorry he got no wife--
So he's paint heem hees buggy, lak new, by Gor!
Put flower on hees coat, mak' hese'f more gay
Arrange on hees head fine chapeau castor
An' drive on de house of de Boulanger.
For de Boulanger's got heem une jolie fille
Mos' bes' lookin' girl on paroisse dey say
An' all de young feller is lak Julie
An' plaintee is ax her for mak' mariée,
But Julie she's love only jus' wan man,
Hees nam' it is Jérémie Dandurand
An' he's work for her sak' all de hard he can
'Way off on de wood, up de Mattawa.
M'Sieu Paul he spik him 'Bonjour Mamzelle,
You lak promenade on de church wit' me?
Jus' wan leetle word an' we go ma belle
An' see heem de Curé toute suite, chérie;
I dress you de very bes' style à la mode,
If you promise for be Madame Paul Joulin,
For I got me fine house on Bord à Plouffe road
Wit' mor'gage also on de Grande Moulin.'
But Julie she say 'Non, non, M'Sieu Paul,
Dat's not correc' t'ing for poor Jérémie
For I love dat young feller lak not'ing at all,
An' I'm very surprise you was not know me.
Jérémie w'en he's geev me dat nice gol' ring,
Las' tam he's gone off on de Mattawa
Say he's got 'noder wan w'en he's come nex' spring
Was mak' me for sure Madame Dandurand.
'I t'ank you de sam' M'Sieu Paul Joulin
I s'pose I mus' be de wife wan poor man
Wit' no chance at all for de Grande Moulin,
But leev all de tam on some small cabane.'
De Notaire Publique den is tak' hees hat,
For he t'ink sure enough dat hees dog she's dead;
Dere's no use mak' love on de girl lak dat,
Wit' not'ing but young feller on de head.
Julie she's feel lonesome mos' all dat week,
Don't know w'at may happen she wait till spring
Den t'ink de fine house of Notaire Publique
An' plaintee more too--but love's funny t'ing!
So nex' tam she see de Notaire again,
She laugh on her eye an' say 'M'Sieu Paul
Please pass on de house, or you ketch de rain,
Dat's very long tam you don't come at all.'
She's geev him so soon he's come on de door
Du vin de pays, an' some nice galettes,
She's mak' dem herse'f only day before
An' he say 'Bigosh! dat is fine girl yet.'
So he's try hees chances some more--hooraw!
Julie is not mak' so moche troub' dis tam;
She's forget de poor Jérémie Dandurand
An' tole de Notaire she will be hees famme.
W'en Jérémie come off de wood nex' spring,
An' fin' dat hees girl she was get mariée
Everybody's expec' he will do somet'ing,
But he don't do not'ing at all, dey say;
For he's got 'noder girl on Sainte Dorothée,
Dat he's love long tam, an' she don't say 'No,'
So he's forget too all about Julie
An' mak' de mariée wit' hese'f also.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Der Drummer
Who puts oup at der pest hotel,
Und dakes his oysders on der schell,
Und mit der frauleins cuts a schwell
Der drummer.
Who vas it gomes indo mine schtore,
Drows down his pundles on der vloor,
Und nefer schtops to shut der door!
Der drummer.
Who dakes me py der handt, und say,
"Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day?"
Und goes for peesness righdt avay?
Der drummer.
Who shpreads his zamples in a trice,
Und dells me, "Look, und see how nice"?
Und says I gets "der bottom price"?
Der drummer.
Who dells how sheap der goots vas bought,
Mooch less as vot I gould imbort,
But lets dem go as he vas "short"?
Der drummer.
Who says der tings vas eggstra vine, —
"Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine," —
Und sheats me den dimes oudt off nine?
Der drummer.
Who varrants all der goots to suit
Der gustomers ubon his route,
Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot?
Der drummer.
Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt,
Drinks oup mine bier, and eats mine kraut,
Und kiss Katrina in der mout'?
Der drummer.
Who, ven he gomes again dis vay,
Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say,
Und mit a plack eye goes avay?
Der drummer.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sorry Little Girl
SORRY LITTLE GIRL THAT YOU CRY
SORRY LITTLE GIRL THAT HE WENT AWAY
SORRY LITTLE GIRL YOU CARRY SO MUCH PAIN
SORRY LITTLE GIRL IT DIDN'T WORK OUT YOUR WAY
SORRY LITTLE GIRL YOU WILL SEE HIM SOMEDAY
SORRY LITTLE GIRL FOR YOUR TEARS
SORRY LITTLE GIRL I HAVEN'T BEEN THERE
SORRY LITTLE GIRL I LOST MY MIND
SORRY LITTLE GIRL I'M NOT THE ONE YOU CAN LEAN ON
SORRY LITTLE GIRL I CRY TOO
SORRY LITTLE GIRL I CAN'T TAKE BACK THAT DAY
YOU KNOW I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU
SORRY LITTLE GIRL I COULDN'T WAKE HIM UP, LIKE YOU ASK ME TO
LITTLE GIRL HE LOVES YOU AND YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE
LITTLE GIRL JUST LOOK OVER YOUR SHOULDER HE IS RIGHT BEHIND YOU
LITTLE GIRL PLEASE DON'T CRY ANYMORE
IT MAKES ME SAD TO SEE YOU IN SO MUCH PAIN, I WISH YOU WERE STILL FOUR WHEN A KISS WOULD STILL FIX EVERYTHING
poem by Christina L Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girl Im Over U And This Is Done The Song
girl i'm over u and this is done girl im over u and this is done girl im over u and this is done your not even that fine
so why u treating me like water down wine girl i'm over u and this is done girl im over u and this is done girl im over u and this is done
so why u tryna play me like a was a video game in HD i made up my mind girl u waste my time girl i'm over u and this is done girl im over u and this is done girl im over u and this is done
poem by Poetry Finder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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