Boots!--of all my friends the truest, Come and prop my suffering head; But one pint, and that of newest, May’st thou bring--enough is said! Then abed, from this sad hour, I’ll not rise, though all should ring, Till a heavy golden shower Through the roof comes pattering. Then begone, for we must sever; Greet thy fellows in their cell. Ah! my legs already shiver; My last breeches,--fare ye well! _J. V. Scheffel._ ENDERLE VON KETSCH. [This ballad is founded on an incident narrated in the description of the Palatinate by Merian (1645), where, speaking of the village Ketsch, he tells us that “The Counte Palatine Otto Heinrich, afterwards Kurfürst, sailed in the yeere 1530 to the Holie Lande and to Jerusalem. Returning thence, hee came over the greate open sea, where a shipp from Norwaie mett him, and from it there came this cry: ‘Flye, flye, for ye fatt Enderle von Ketsch cometh!’ Now the Counte Palatine and his Chancellor Mückenhäuser knew a godless wretche of this name who dwelt at Ketsch, and therefore whenn they returned home they inquired of ye fatt Enderle and of the tyme of his deathe, and observed that itt agreed with the tyme whenn they did heare the crye upon ye sea, as whilom a professor of Heidelberg hath narrated in divers wrytings which hee left behinde.”] [Illustration: “THERE A GHOST IN HIS SHIRT-SLEEVES WAS STANDING, AND HOWLING A HORRIBLE SONG.”] _Chorus._ “AWAY--along! Away--along! With trembling, your jaws on the stretch. Away--along! We sing the song Of Enderle von Ketsch!” _Solo._ Old Heinrich, the Pfalzgrave of Rhine--oh! Spoke out of a morning, “Rem blem! I’m tired of the sour Hock wine--oh! I’m off for Jerusalem. “Far lovelier, neater, and nicer Are the maids there who give you the cup; Oh, Chancellor! oh, Mückenhäuser, Five thousand gold ducats pack up.” And as before Joppa they anchored, The Chancellor held up his hand: “Now drain to the dregs your last tankard, For the ducats are come to an end.” Old Heinrich said, “Well, and no wonder; Rem blem! what remains to be seen! We’ll paddle for Cyprus out yonder, And make a small raise on the Queen.” But just as the galley was dancing By Cyprus, in beautiful night, A storm o’er the billows came prancing, With thunder and flashes of light. In a ghastly wild glare, by the landing, A black ship came rushing along; There a ghost in his shirt-sleeves was standing, And howling a horrible song. _Chorus._ “Away--along! Away--along! With trembling, your jaws on the stretch. Away--along! I sing the song Of Enderle von Ketsch!” _Solo._ The thunder grew calmer and wiser, Like oil lay the water below; But oh, the old brave Mückenhäuser The Chancellor felt sorrow and woe.