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” Adsum, Domine Breitmann!
Herr Copitain, here I pe!
So dell me rite honeste,
Quare inquietasti me?

Te video inter spoonibus,

Et largis glassis too,
Cerevisia repletis,

Sicut percussus tonitru! “

Denn Breitmann ansver Schnitzerl;
” Coarctor nimis, see!
Siquidem Philistiim

Pugnant adversum me.

Ergo vocavi te,
Ash Saul vocavit Sam-
Uel, ut mi ostenderes

Quid teufel faciam? “

Denn de shpirit (in Lateinisch)
Saidt ” Bene, dat’s de talk,
Non habes in hoc shanty,
A shingle et some chalk?
Non video inkum nec calamos
(I shpose some bummer shdole ’em),
Levate oculos tuos, son,
Et aspice ad linteolum! “

Denn Breitmann see de biece of chalk
Vhich riset vrom de vloor,
Und signed a fine philosopede
Alone, oopon de toor.
De von dat Schnitzerl fobricate,
Und oonderneat’ he see:
Probate inter equites,
(Try dis in de cavallrie).

Der Breitmann shtood oop from de vloor,
Und leanet on a post;
Und saidt: “If dis couldt, shouldt hafe peen,
Dar vouldt, mighdt peen a ghosdt;
Boot if id pe noumenon,
Phenomenoned indeed,
Or de soobyectif obyectified,
I’fe cot de philosopede.”

Denn out he seekt a plackschmit,
Ash vork in iron-steel,
To make him a philosopede
Mit shoost an only vheel.
De dings vas maket simple,
Ash all crate idées shouldt pe,
For ‘tvas noding boot a gart-vheel,
Mit a dwo-feet axel dree.

De dimes der Breitmann doomple,
In learnin’ for to ride,
Vas ofdener ash de sand-crains
Dat rollen in de tide.
De dimes he cot oopsettet,
In shdeerin’ left und righdt,
Vas ofdener ash de cleamin’ shdars,
Dat shtud de shky py night.

Boot de vorstest of de veadures
In dis von-vheel horse, you pet,
Ish dat man couldt go so nicely,
Pefore he get oopset.
Some dimes he co like plazes,
Und doorn her, extra-fine;
Und denn shlop ofer – dis is vot
Hafe kill der Schnitzerlein.

Soosh droples ash der Breitmann hafe,
To make dis ‘vention go,
Vas nefer seen py mordal man,
Oopon dis vorldt pelow.
He doomplet righdt – he doomplet left,
He hafe a dousand doomps;
Dere nefer vas a gricket ball
Ash get soosh ‘fernal boomps.

Boot – ash he’d shvearet he’d poot it droo,
He shvear’t it moost pe tone;
Dough he schimpft’ und flucht’ gar læsterlich,
He visht he’t ne’er pegun.
Mit “Hagel! Blitz! Kreuz-sakrament!”
He maket de Houser ring,
Und vish der Schnitzerl vas in hell,
For deachin’ him dis ding.

Nun – goot! At lasht he cot it,
Und peautifool he goed,
“Dis day,” saidt he, “I’ll ‘stonish folk
A ridin’ in de road.
Dis day, py shings! I’ll do it,
Und knock dings oud of sight:”-
Ach weh! – for Breitmann dat day
Vas not be-markt mit vhite.

De noombers of de Deutsche volk,
Dat coomed dis sighdt to see,
I dink, in soper earnst-hood,
Mighdt not ge-reckonet pe.
For miles dey shtoodt along de road,
Mein Gott! – boot dey wer’n dry;
Dey trinket den lager-bier shops out,
Pefore der Hans coom py.

Vhen all at vonce drementous gries
De fery coondry shook,
Und beople’s shkreemt, “Da ist er! – Schau!
Here cooms der Breitmann, look!”
Mein Gott! vas efer soosh a sighdt!
Vas efer soosh a gry!
Vhen like a brick-pat in a vighdt,
Der Breitemann roosh py?