To him antworded a Yorker Who shoomp den dimes de boun-ti-ee: (De only dings he lossed in de war Was a sense of broperty.) Says he, "Votefer you hafe dropped Some oder shap hafe get, Und de yallow-pine liked him petter ash you, On dat it is safe to bet!" Dead pale pecame dat Soudern brave, He tidn't so moosh as yell, Boot he drop right on to de Yorker, Und mit von lick bust his shell. Denn out he flashed his pig-sticker, Und mit looks of drementous gloom, Rooshed vildly in de pattle Dat vas ragin round de room. Boot in angulo, in de corner- Anoder quarrel vas grow 'Twix a Boston shap mit a Londoner; Und de row ish gekommen so: De Yankee say dat de H-u-mor Of soosh writin vas less dan small, Dough it maket de beoples laughen, Boot dat vas only all. Denn a Deutscher say, by Donner! Dat soosh a baradox Vould leafe no hope for writers In all Pandora's baender box. 'Twas like de sayin dat Heine Hafe no witz in him goot or bad, Boot he only kept sayin witty dings To make beoples pelieve he had. Denn de oder veller be-headed Dat dere vas not a shbark of foon In de pad spelt lieds when you lead dem Into Englisch correctly done:- Den a Proof Sheet veller respondered, For he dink de dings vas hard, "Dat ish shoost like de goot oldt lady Ash vent to hear Artemus Ward. "Und say it vas shames de beoples Vas laugh demselfs most tead At de boor young veller lecturin, Vhen he tidn't know vot he said." Hereauf de Yankee answered, "Gaul dern it:- Shtop your fuss!" And all de crowd togeder Go slap in a grand plug-muss. De Yankee shlog de Proof Sheet Soosh an awfool smock on de face, Dat he shvell right oop like a poonkin Mit a sense of his tisgrace; Boot der Deutscher boosted an ink-keg On dop of de oder's hair: It vly troo de air like a boomshell - denn- Mine Gotts! - Vot a sighdt vas dere! Denn ofer all de shapel Vierce war vas ragin loose; Fool many a vighten brinter Got well ge-gooked his goose. Fool many a nose mit fisten, I ween was padly scrouged; Fool many an eye pright gleamin Vas ploody out-gegouged. Do wart ufgehouwen,[78] Dere vas hewin off of pones; Do horte man darinne Man heardt soosh treadful croans. Jach waren da die Geste, De row vas rough and tough, Genuoge sluogen wunden- Dere vas plooty wounds enough. De souls of anciend brinters From Himmel look down oopon, Und allowed dat in a chapel Dere was nefer soosh carryins on. Dere was Lorenz Coster mit Gutemberg, Und Scheffer mit der Fust, Und Sweynheim mit Pannartz trop deers, Oopon dis teufel's dust. Dere vas Yankee jours extincted Who lay upon de vloor, Dere vas Soudern rebs destructed, Who vouldt nefer Jeff no more. Ash deir souls rise oop to Heafen, Dey heardt de oldt brinters' calls, Und Gutemberg gifed dem all a kick Ash he histed dem ofer de walls.