Breitmann In Paris
DER teufel's los in Bal Mabille,
Dere's hell-fire in de air,
De fiddlers can't blay noding else
Boot Orphee aux Enfers:
Vot makes de beoples howl mit shoy?
Da capo - Bravo! - bis!!
It's a Deutscher aus Amerika:
Hans Breitmann in Paris.
Dere's silber toughts vot might hafe peen,
Dere's golden deeds vot must:
Der Hans ish come to Frankenland
On one eternal bust.
Der same old rowdy Argonaut
Vot hoont de same oldt vleece,
A hafin all de foon dere ish-
Der Breitmann in Paris.
Mit a gal on eider shoulder
A holdin py his beard,
He tantz de Cancan, sacrament!
Dill all das Volk vas skeered.
Like a roarin hippopatamos,
Mit a kangarunic shoomp,
Dey feared he'd smash de Catacombs,
Each dime der Breitmann bump.
De pretty liddle cocodettes
Lofe efery dings ish new,
'D'ou vient il donc ce grand M'sieu?
O sacre nom de Dieu!'
In fain dey kicks deir veet on high,
And sky like vlyin geese,
Dey can not kick de hat afay
From Breitmann in Paris.
O vhere vas id der Breitmann life?
Oopon de Rond Point gay,
Vot shdreet lie shoost pehind his house?
La rue de Rabelais.
Aroundt de corner Harper's shtands
Vhere Yankee drinks dey mill,
Vhile shdraight ahet, agross de shdreet,
Der lies de Bal Mabille.
Id's all along de Elysees,
Id's oop de Boulevarce,
He's sampled all de weinshops,
Und he's vinked at efery garce.
Dou schveet plack-silken Gabrielle,
O let me learn from dee,
If 'tis in lofe - or absinthe drunks,
Dat dis wild ghost may pe?
Und dou may'st kneel in Notre Dame,
Und veep away dy sin,
Vhile I go vight at Barriere balls,
Oontil mine poots cave in;
Boot if ve pray, or if ve sin-
Vhile nodings ish refuse,
Tis all de same in Paris here,
So long ash l'on s'amuse.
O life, mein dear, at pest or vorst,
Ish boot a vancy ball,
Its cratest shoy a vild gallop,
Vhere madness goferns all.
Und should dey toorn ids gas-light off,
Und nefer leafe a shbark,
Sdill I'd find my vay to Heafen - or-
Dy lips, lofe, in de dark.
O crown your het mit roses, lofe!
O keep a liddel sprung!
Oonendless wisdom ish but dis:
To go it vhile you're yung!
Und Age vas nefer coom to him,
To him Spring plooms afresh,
Who finds a livin' spirit in
Der Teufel und der Flesh.
poem by Charles Godfrey Leland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Breitmann In Forty-Eight
DERE woned once a studente,
All in der Stadt Paris,
Whom jeder der ihn kennte,
Der rowdy Breitmann hiess.
He roosted in de rue La Harpe,
Im Luxembourg Hotel,
'Twas shoost in anno '48,
Dat all dese dings pefel.
Boot he who vouldt go hoontin now
To find dat rue La Harpe,
Moost hafe oongommon shpecdagles,
Und look darnation sharp.
For der Kaisar und his Hausmann
Mit hauses made so vree,
Dere roon shoost now a Bouleverse
Vhere dis shdreet used to pe.
In dis Hotel de Luxembourg,
A vild oldt shdory say,
A shtudent vonce pring home a dame,
Und on de nexter day,
He pooled a ribbon from her neck-
Off fell de lady's het;
She'd trafelled from de guillotine,
Und valked de city - deadt.
Boot Breitmann nefer cared himself
If dis vas falsch or drue,
I kess he hat mit lifin gals
Pout quite enough to do.
Und Februar vas gomin,
Ganz revolutionnaire,
Und vhere der Teufel had vork on hand,
Der Hans vas alvays dere.
Und darker grew de beople's brows,
No Banquet could dey raise,
So dey shtood und shvore at gorners,
Or dey singed de Marseillaise.
Und here und dere a crashin sound
Like forcin shutters ran,
Und boorstin gun-schmidts' vindows in
Hard vorked der Breitemann.
He helped to howl Les Girondins,
To cheer de beople's hearts;
He maket dem bild parricades
Mit garriages und garts.
Vhen a bretty maiden sendinel
Vonce ask de countersign,
He gafe das kind a rousin giss,
Gott hute dir und dein!
Und wilder vent de pattle,
France spread her oriflamme,
Und deeper roared de sturm bell,
De bell of Notre Dame;
Und he who nefer heard it,
O'er shots und cries of fear,
Loud booming like a dragon's roar,
Has someding yet to hear.
Und in de Fauborg Sainte Antoine
Dere comed a fusillade,
Und dyin groans und fallin dead
Vere roundt dat parricade,
But der song of Revolution
From a tousand voices round,
Made a fearful opera gorus
To de deat' gries on de ground.
Und all around dose parricades
Dey raise der teufel dere;
Somedimes dey vork mit pig-axes,
Und somedimes mit gewehr.
Dey maket prifate houses
Gife all deir arms afay,
Und denn oopon de panels
Dey writet Armes donnees.
Und ve saw mid roarin vollies,
Shtreaked like banded settin suns,
Two regiments coome ofer,
Und telifer oop deir guns.
Hei! - how de deers vere roonin:
Hei! - how dey gryed hurrahs!
For dey saw de vight vas ofer,
Und dey know dey gained deir cause.
Dus spoke deir hearts outboorstin,
In battle by de blade,
From sun to sun mit roarin gun
Und donnerin parricade.
In vain pefore de depudies
De princes tremblin stood,
Vot comes in France too late a day
Cooms shoost in dime for blood.
Vhen de Tuileries vas daken,
Amid de scotterin shot,
Und vlyin stones, und howlin,
Und curses vild und hot,
'Tvas dere Hans clobbed his musket,
Und dere de man vas first
To roosh into de palace,
Ven de toors vere in-geburst.
Some vellers burn de guart-haus,
Some trink des Konigs wein;
Some fill deir hats mit rasbry sham,
Und prandy beeches fein.
Hans Breitmann in de gitchen
Vas shdare like avery ding,
To see vot lots of victual-de-dees
Id dakes to feed a king.
Und oder volk, like plackguarts,
Vent dook de goaches out;
Und burnin dem, dey rolled dem
Afay mit yell und shout.
Der Breitmann in der barlor,
Help writen rapidly,
La liberte pour la Pologne!
Likevise - pour l'Italie!
Den in der Tuileries courtyard
Ten tousand volk come on;
Dey vas gissin und hurrahin
For to dink der king vas gone.
Some vas hollerin und tantzin
Round de blazin oldt caboose;
Vhen Frantschmen kits a goin,
Den dey lets der teufel loose.
Boot von veller set me laughin,
Who roosh madly roun de field;
He hat rop de Cluny Museum,
Und gestohlen speer und schild.
Mit a sblendit royal charger,
Vitch he hat somevhere found,
Like a trunken Don Quixote,
He vent tearin oop und round.
Doun vent de line of Bourbons,
Doun vent de vork of years,
Ash de pillars of deir temple
Ge-crashed like splintered speers;
Und o'er dem rosed a phantom,
Wild, beautiful, und weak,
Vhile millions gry arount her-
Vive! vive la Republique;
Tree days mid shdiflin powder shmoke,
Tree days mid cheers und groans,
Ve fought to guard de parricades,
Or pile dem oop mit shtones.
De hand vitch held de bistol denn,
Or made de crowbar bite,
Das war de same Hans Breitmann's hand
Vitch now dese verses write.
poem by Charles Godfrey Leland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Post-Prandial
PHI BETA KAPPA
WENDELL PHILLIPS, ORATOR; CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, POET
1881
'THE Dutch have taken Holland,'--so the schoolboys used to say;
The Dutch have taken Harvard,--no doubt of that to-day!
For the Wendells were low Dutchmen, and all their vrows were Vans;
And the Breitmanns are high Dutchmen, and here is honest Hans.
Mynheers, you both are welcome! Fair cousin Wendell P.,
Our ancestors were dwellers beside the Zuyder Zee;
Both Grotius and Erasmus were countrymen of we,
And Vondel was our namesake, though he spelt it with a V.
It is well old Evert Jansen sought a dwelling over sea
On the margin of the Hudson, where he sampled you and me
Through our grandsires and great-grandsires, for you would n't quite
agree
With the steady-going burghers along the Zuyder Zee.
Like our Motley's John of Barnveld, you have always been inclined
To speak,--well,--somewhat frankly,--to let us know your mind,
And the Mynheers would have told you to be cautious what you said,
Or else that silver tongue of yours might cost your precious head.
But we're very glad you've kept it; it was always Freedom's own,
And whenever Reason chose it she found a royal throne;
You have whacked us with your sceptre; our backs were little harmed,
And while we rubbed our bruises we owned we had been charmed.
And you, our quasi Dutchman, what welcome should be yours
For all the wise prescriptions that work your laughter-cures?
'Shake before taking'?--not a bit,--the bottle-cure's a sham;
Take before shaking, and you 'll find it shakes your diaphragm.
'Hans Breitmann gif a barty,--vhere is dot barty now?'
On every shelf where wit is stored to smooth the careworn brow
A health to stout Hans Breitmann! How long before we see
Another Hans as handsome,--as bright a man as he!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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In Paris With You
Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.
Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.
Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.
poem by James Fenton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Une Nuit A Paris
Part one: one night in paris
Bonjour monsieur
Paris really welcomes you
Its the best room in the house
Its forty francs a night, alright.
Its crazy, it isnt worth a centime
Ill take it!
Merci monsieur
Rouged lips in the gaslight
A great view of the hall
Thats the way the croissant crumbles after all
Paris is only one step away
Les girls are out on bail
Tres bien theres love for sale
Oh my cheri, wish you were mine
And Ill show you a wonderful time
For the price of a cheap champagne
Ill show it you once again
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face
One girl in paris
Is like loving every woman
One night in paris
One night in paris
One night in paris
May be your last!!!
Part two: the same night in paris
Is he gonna buy?
You wanna little culture?
Is he gonna pay?
Maybe monsieur is into photographs, non?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
I got a watch wiz a beautiful swiss movement
Is he gonna buy?
Forget the watch, Ill show you a good time!'
Is he gonna pay?
Le connoisseur, want something different?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
Oh you know you aint no casanova
You cant even do the bossa nova
Or the tango or the samba!
Though you are so very charming
No you aint no casanova
Is he gonna buy?
Is he gonna pay?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
Sometimes I think he will
But then again........................
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place!
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face!
Try a girl in paris
But try one of mine
Each night in paris
Each night in paris
Each night in paris
Each night in paris
May be your last!!!
Part three: later the same night in paris
Forty-two, quarante-deux
Rue de saint jacques
All our girls are how you say
Good in the sack
I was a stripper
On the champs elysees
He was a gendarme
In the gendarmerie
Going oh la la la
Oh la la la la
He was a pimp
In a black beret
But he was an artiste
In his own way
Oh la la la
Oh la la la la
When they raided my club that night
They ruined my act with the leather umbrella
The chief de police got a fright
He was up in my boudoir with some other fella
Its only routine
But I got this feeling
It aint good for business
Then the floor cleared
A woman screamed to herself
Henri...though youre not the toast of paris
I love you, although you bed and beat me
Henri, leave it alone,
For the gendarmes just doing his job
Paris is only one step away
Murder is only one step away
Notre dame is ringing her bells
Another gendarme has gone to hell
Notre dame is ringing her bells
Another gendarme has gone to hell
Gone to hell
Gone to hell
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face
One girl in paris
Is like loving every woman
This night in paris
This night in paris
This night in paris
This night in paris
May be your last!!!
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Schneider Strauss
I vas all der country hunting for a man I vants to meet,
I vas bursting me to schlog him on der cop.
If mine hand I vonce can on him lay, I'll hit him mit mine feet
‘Till he'll neffer know vhich side of him vas top.
He vas "Dandy Pat from Ballarat", mit mighty gifts of gab,
Und he got me to insure me for mine house.
Put, py shinks, if I comes down on him, I'll schlog him mit a schlab
Till he von't some more tricks play mit Schneider Strauss.
I vas built mine house mit packing cases, roofed him in mit tin,
Mit a gutter for der vater, und a shpout;
Und suppose some leetle cracks der vas, vat let der vind come in,
Dere vas lots of pigger vons to let it out.
So efery night I drunk mine pipe und smoked mine lager peer,
Und I felt shoost most ash happy ash a mouse;
Till von efening apout two o'clock, a voice falls on mine ear,
Und it said, "Vas you dat man called Schneider Strauss?"
Und der voice vas dat insurance man. He coomed und sat him down
On a candle box, und talked like eferythings;
Py der vay der vords fell out of him, you'd bet a half-a-crown
Dat his tongue vas on a see-saw vorked mit shprings.
Und he talked apout insurances, und told me I could get
Lots of money if a fire purnt down mine house,
So I paid him down two pound ker-splash, und says to him,
"You bet,
Dat you von't find no plowflies catch on Schneider Strauss.
Dat insurance man he gafe me, vat you call, "a polisee",
Und I nearly laughed mine sides out mit der yoke.
In apout a veek, or sefen days - mine house -
Oh, vere vas he?
He vas gone; und dere vas notings left but smoke.
So der Gompany I vent to see, to get mine leetle bill,
Und I promised me a yolly big carouse;
But like forty tousand tons of boulders falling down a hill,
Did der troubles tumble down on Schneider Strauss.
Vhen der Gompany I seen he asked me vhat I was apout?
Und I told him I vas coomed to get some tin.
Put, he called a pig policeman und shouted "Roon him out."
Dey put me on a canvas suit, dey cut me off mine hair,
In some vater cold like ice, dey made me souse;
Und der shtones I vas preaking opp for six months, you can schvear
Dey vas not so bad proke up as Schneider Strauss.
Und mine house vas gone to plazes, und mine money vas gone too;
Dat insurance man - vhere he vas - who can tell?
Und mine polisee - mine lots of tin - vas gone clean oop der flue.
It vas turned to shmoke, und dat vas gone ash well.
Put, I vant dat nice insurance man, to schlog him on der cop,
If I dropp on him he'll vish he vas a mouse,
For I'll turn his outsides inside, till I bet I'll make him shtop
Playing paddymelon tricks mit Schneider Strauss.
poem by Thomas E. Spencer
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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
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Paris(Lil Sis)
Paris is her name
Paris she beautiful
she got a pretty smile
pretty walk
pretty size
Paris..
Nice
cool
real
short
loveable person
Paris
take what u got and work it
let your haterz hate
your haterz are your biggest fanz
show that beauty
stop hiding it..
To My Bestfriend/ Lil Sis Paris Aka Mizz Killin U H**z
poem by Angel Wade
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Paris, Please Accept Me, As A Human Refugee
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
the patience, eating the happiness
the pain, eating the patience
and the pain, eating the pain
I AM SICK, paris
treat me, sister
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
exile, on my papers
restrained, ..
in my lines
so free me, paris
treat me, paris
I BELONG TO YOU, ..
sister
my home, the colours of MONET
my room, is a water flower
my air..
is the scent of FRANCE
and my refuge..
is a place by RENOIR shrine
so take me paris..
as your..
renoirian..
REFUGEE.
poem by Ahmed Khaled
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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I Love Paris
Every time I look down on this timeless town,
Whether blue or gray be her skies,
Whether loud be her cheers, or whether soft be her tears,
More and more do I realize that...
I love paris in the spring time
I love paris in the fall
I love paris in the summer when it sizzles
I
Love paris in the winter when it drizzles
I love paris every moment
Every moment of the year
I love
Paris, why oh why do I love paris
Because my love is here
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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De Worthiness of Argument
(A little argument spices up luv
And life now and then)
Widout women,
Dere would be no men.
Widout men,
Dere would be no women.
Widout women and men,
Dere would be no argument.
And widout de spice of argument,
De world would be seasonless and full of zombies.
poem by Gabriel Eshun
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Tatooed Lovers
Hey Babe
How can we forget?
Those paradise days
In the city of Paris!
Seine river cruising
Eiffel tower dinner
Shows after shows!
Le Moulin Rouge
Le Crazy Horse
Le Crazy Girls
Le Femme
Le Lido de Paris
Le Paradis Latin
The great Parisian shows!
We were happy
L'Open Hope –on
Hop-off Tour
The Louvre Museum
Mona Lisa
The 'Arc de Triomphe'
Avenue des Champs-Elysées
Place de la Concorde
Sacre Coeur Basilica
Notre Dame Cathedral
Centre Georges Pompidou!
Going to La Defense
Versailles
Having Champagne
At Champagne
Hi Babe
How can we forget Paris?
The tattoo lovers we knew
They lived and danced
Above the studio
Where we lived! .....
poem by Kp. Shashidharan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paris Song
Paris so beautiful at night
And during the day is beautiful also
The Eiffel Tower is located in the center of Paris
But all the flowers in Paris are blooming in the parks
And at la seine
Yes spring is heret in Paris
And I am enjoying the spring
But the flowers in the parks here in Paris are beautiful
Because they are a show of colors
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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