Ja wohl! Donnes cent mille franken, C'est mir egal, you know;[53] Pid dem pring id in a horry, For 'tis dime for oos to go." Der maire he pring de money, Und der Breitmann squeeze his hand,- "Leb wohl, dou nople brickbat, Herzbruder in Frankenland! "Boot it griefes my soul to larmen, Und I sympathize mit dein, To pense of you, mon ami, Sans le champagner wein. Dere will oder Deutsch pe gomin, Und it preak mine heart to dink De vay dey'll bang and slang you If dere's no champagne to trink! "Cela fous fera misere Que she ne feux bas see; So, vollow mes gonseilles, Et brenez mon afis. Shai, moi, deux mille boutelles, De meilleur dat man can ashk,[54] Vich I will gladly sell- Sheap as dirt - ten franks a flask." De maire look oop to heafen, Wohl nodings could he say, Vhile oud indo de mitnight Der Breitmann rode afay. Away - atown de falley, Till noding more abbears Boot de glitter of de moonlight, De moonlight on deir spears. V. BREITMANN IN BIVOUAC. HE sits in bivouacke, By fire, peneat' de drees; A pottle of champagner Held shently on his knees; His lange Uhlan lanze Stuck py him in de sand; Vhile a goot peas-poodin' sausage Adorn his oder hand. Und jungere Uhlanen Sit round mit oben mout' To hear der Breitmann's shdories Of fitin in de Sout' Und he gife dem moral lessons, How pefore de battle pops: "Take a liddle brayer to Himmel, Und a goot long trink of schnapps." Denn his leutenant bemarket: "How voonder shdrange it peen Dat so very many wild pigs Ish dis year in de Ardennes. Ash I sout dere - donner'r'wetter!- I sah dem coom heraus, Shoost here und dere an Eber Mit a hoondert tousand sows. "Shoost dink of all dese she-picks Vot flet to neutral land!" Said Breitmann: "Fery easy Ish dis to oonderstand: Dese schwein-picks mit de sauen Vot you saw a-roonin rond, Ish a crate medempsygosis Of the Frantsche demi-monde. "I hafe readet in de Bible How soosh a coterie Vas ge-toornet into swine-picks, Und roon down indo de see; Boot since de see aint handy, Or de picks vere all too dumm, Dey hafe coot across de porder Und vly to Belgium." Now ash dey boorst oud laughin, Und got more liquor out, Dey hearden from de sendry A shot und denn a shout. Und Breitmann crasp his sabre Quick ash de bullet hiss, Und leapin out, demantet, "Herr'r'r'r Gott! vat row ish dis?" Und bold der Schwabian answert: "Dis minute on de ground Dere comed a Frantschman greepin, On all-fours a-prowlin round. I ask him vat he vanted; Werda! I gry; boot he Say nodings to my shallenge, Und only answer 'Oui.' "So I shoot him like der teufels, Und I rader dink our friend, Dis sneakin Frank-tiroir, Ish a-drawin to his end." So dey hoonted in de pushes, Und in avery gorner dig, Boot, mein Gott! how dey vas laughin, Ven dey found a - mordered pig.