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Mine heart ish proken into little pits,
I tells you, friend, what for;
Mine schweetheart, von coot patriotic kirl,
She trives me off mit der war.
I fights for her der pattles of te flag --
I schtrikes so prave as I can;
Put now long time she nix remempers me,
And coes mit another man.
Ah! mine fraulein! You ish so ferry unkind!
You coes mit Hans to Zhermany to live,
And leaves poor Schnapps pehind,
Leaves poor Schnapps pehind.
I march all tay, no matter if der schtorm
Pe worse ash Moses' flood;
I lays all night, mine head upon a schtump,
And "sinks to sleep" in der mud.
Der nightmare comes -- I catch him ferry pad --
I treams I schleeps mit der Ghost;
I wakes next morning frusen in der cround,
So schtiff as von schtone post.
They kives me hart-pread, tougher as a rock --
It almost preaks mine shaw;
I schplite him sometimes mit an iron wedge,
And cuts him up mit a saw.
They kives me peef, as ferry, ferry salt,
Like Sodom's wife, you know;
I surely dinks they put him in der prine
Von hundred years aco.
Py'n py we take von city in der South --
We schtays there von whole year;
I kite me sourcrout much as I can eat,
And plenty loqcar pier.
I meets von lady repel in der street,
So handsome offer I see;
I makes to her von ferry callant pow --
Put ah! she schpits on me.
"Hard times!" you say, "what for you volunteer!"
I todt you friend, what for;
Mine schweetheart, von coot patriotic kirl,
She trove me off mit der war.
Alas! alas! mine pretty little von
Will schmile no more on me;
Put schtill I fights der pattle of te flag
To set mine countries free.
Henry Clay Work
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Read poems about / on: war, friend, city, sometimes, sleep
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