Gaudeamus! Humorous Poems Part 13

'The sin I did was this, that I Did not in Rhine-land bide; There's nothing like it in the world, Wherever you run or ride.

'For a hundred leagues behind Lyons, I travelled France-land through; And many a meal of oysters and sack I ate, and enjoyed it too.

'Full oft at Ma.r.s.eilles in the Cafe Turk, Among heathens and n.i.g.g.e.rs I sat; And, deep in the Pyrenean hills, Garbanzos and garlic ate.

'Still whirls my brain when I recall The mountain-lake maid Filumene, With gipsy-brown face and coal-black hair, Each tooth like an ivory grain.

'But bepitched and besulphured is every land, Without friends and song and love, And shaken with fever, and all burned out, From the foreign realms I rove.'

The priest of a.s.smanshausen spoke: 'Tis well, oh penitent soul; Anoint thy lips with the purple wine From this holy ancient bowl.

'And by that wine three days, three nights, In the deep, dark cellar abide; And drinking, keep by the barrels watch, Till grace in thy heart shall glide.

'And then in the Crown and Anchor join In spiritual exercise; And not till the watchman warns you, leave The club with its songs and cries.

'Then Heaven will surely show thee a sign,-- It heeds every penitent's woes!-- A delicate wine-green, a carbuncle red, Will colour thy forehead and nose.

'And when that nose is a rubied one, All care will quit thy brain; And then may'st thou, oh, long-lost son, Turn back to thy friends again.

'We're the same old fellows; still sing by wine The songs which we sang from dark; Of the Sparrow and the Goldfinch fine, And the summer-heralding Lark.'

'We're the same old fellows, we love thee well, Be thy heart from fretting free; And hadst thou gone loafing yet further afar, Still a calf we would slay for thee.'

The pilgrim sighed with tearful eye-- 'Oh, priest, such a soothing word As you have spoken, pious man, In my travels I never heard.

'And now I strike my barren staff Into this holy earth, That it with spreading branches anew May roof me a home and hearth.

'Flow on, thou Rhine vine-cl.u.s.ter blood.

Still thy h.o.a.rds of grace remain; In thy youth-giving fire-blood I will bathe me to health again.

'Now shall the world, with its snares so bright, Behold my back for ever.

Oh, Heidelberg, s.h.i.+ning star in the night, I leave thee never--and never!'

MISCELLANEOUS.

HEINZ VON STEIN.

Outrode from his wild dark castle The terrible Heinz von Stein: He came to the door of a tavern, And gazed at the swinging sign.

He sat himself down at a table, And growled for a bottle of wine; Up came, with a flask and a corkscrew, A maiden of beauty divine.

Then, seized with a deep love-longing, He uttered, 'Oh, damosell mine, Suppose you just give a few kisses To the valorous Ritter von Stein.'

But she answered, 'The kissing business Is entirely out of my line; And I certainly will not begin it On a countenance ugly as thine.'

Oh, then the bold knight was angry.

And cursed both coa.r.s.e and fine; And asked, 'How much is the swindle For your sour and nasty wine?

And fiercely he rode to the castle, And sat himself down to dine; And this is the dreadful legend Of the terrible Heinz von Stein.

THE HOLY COAT AT TREVES.

Freifrau von Droste Vischering, Viva Vischering; Zum heil'gen Rock nach Triere ging, Tri tra Triere ging.

Frei-frau von Droste Fischering, Fee-fau--Fischering; To the Holy Coat went pilgriming, Pee-pau--pilgriming.

She crawled upon all four--o, And found it was a bore--o, For gladly without crutches One through this hard world pushes.

She cried as to the Coat she came, Kee-kaw--Coat she came, 'I am in hand and footkin lame, Fee-faw--footkin lame.

Thou, Coat, art avocations, That maketh thee so gracious, On me thy light increase, oh!

I am the Bishops niece, oh!'

And then the Coat, in its holy shrine, Hee-haw--holy shrine, At once gave out a silver s.h.i.+ne, See-saw-silver s.h.i.+ne.

She felt it come all o'er her, She kicked the chair before her.

Ran like the devil down the stair, And left her crutches lying there.

Frei-frau von Droste Fischering, Fee-faw--Fischering; That night went dancing in a ring, Ree-raw--in a ring.

This wonder which we now send Took place in the year one thousand Eight hundred four and foughty; Who don't believe it--'s naughty.

RAMBAMBO.

Der Beglerbeg Rambambo, Zu Belgrad im Castell, Sprach: 'Alter Vizebambo, Die Hitz' brennt wie die Holl.

The Beg-ler-beg Rambambo, Near Belgrade's citadel, Said: 'Capudan Vizebambo, The heat's as hot as h.e.l.l.

Drink as the Christians drink, While the liquor flows; Turkey is too dry a land, As everybody knows.

'You cannoneer, fill up with beer The bomb-sh.e.l.ls up and down; Fill up with beer the caniste-er, And fire them at the town!'

At midnight hour bang went a gun, A Pacha rides and says: 'By Allah!--Sire--all Belgarad Is on a tearing blaze!

'All Belgarad is blazing drunk, Without a cent to spend; The Crescent's drinking with the Cross; This war is at an end.

Drink as the Christians drink, While the liquor flows; Turkey is too dry a land, As everybody knows.'

BIBESCO.

Auf dem Schlosse von Gradesco, Hinterwarts von Temeswar, Sa.s.s der tapfre Furst Bibesco, Serbien's greiser Hospodar.

In the Castle of Gradesco, By the town of Temesvar, Sat the valiant Prince Bibesco, Servia's grey old hospodar.