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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.”[1]

“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[2]
Und forvarts troo de night,
Und oopwarts to his mission,
Und downvarts in de vight.
Until in de Bulgáren
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 Capitán,
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 canapé;
Und py his side a lady
So wunderschön to see,
Vas shlisin oop a lemon
Indo a cop of thée.

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-án,

“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.