"Should a Knote dare to sing a student song, he is to be well cudgelled; not so much on account of the excellence of the song, as on account of the audacity of the Philistine, presuming to desecrate songs sacred to the students especially as it is impossible that he can have so much feeling as to appreciate the elegance and beauty of such songs." As the occasions on which men sing are very different, it is natural that the contents of the songs should be so too. Some contain-- _Firstly_.--An incitement to joy. Amongst these I reckon "Up Brothers, let us joyful be;" or, an Exhortation to Friendship, as that _bonne amitié_ song, with which a Commers is always opened, and whose object is solely to create a friendly feeling in the Old Burschen towards the Foxes. _Secondly_.--Others are Freedom and Fatherland songs; amongst which, high above all, stands "The Landsfather." _Thirdly_.--Songs which express the spirit and bravery of the students; as--"The Bursch of genuine Shot and Corn;" or "The Sword on my left side:" "Know ye the happy way to conquer;" "Brave 'tis 'neath the free blue Heaven," etc. One of these we may here give at length, as a PICTURE OF THE OLD-FASHIONED BURSCH. The Bursch of real shot and corn, His courage still doth bloom; On heavy boot the spur is worn, From hat doth sway the plume. The huge hat makes a gallant show, With the sword cut through;[37] It guards him more from thrust and blow, Than were it sound and new. The Bursch his ornament doth bear, Which him such pleasure brings, The sword which with a fearful air Upon his left side swings. As Bursch, when through the town he stirs, Majestic in all eyes, The sparks they lighten round his spurs, And fire crossways flies. What careth he, though hole there be, Upon his elbow now; The jolly Bursch remaineth he, Before whom all must bow. But wo to thee! if on his course In perfumed garb thou rub; He'll curse thee for Pomatum-horse, And threaten with his club. For friends still beats his heart so warm, He feels their grief and care; For them he wields his mighty arm, Nor would his own life spare. Whoever saw him shrink a-back, Or do a coward deed? Shame on him he would never take, Though kingdoms were the meed. They law how in the battle-shock His flashing sword he drew; They saw how from its sweep, like smoke, The slaves before him flew.