"Ach, de efils dat from efil
Troo a life ish efer grow!
Had I nefer dink I killed you,
Many a man were livin now-
Many a man dat shleeps in cane-brakes,
Many a man py pillow-shore;
For dy morder mate me reckelos,
Und
von tead man gries for more!
"O Mädchen! schön im Himmel![48]
(Warst schon on eart' difine)-
Can'st dink among de Engeln
Of soosh as me und mine?
Den look on soosh a Reue,
Ash eart' has nefer known:-
Whereto hast dou a sabre?
Wherefore not kill me, Jean?"
"O, ne pleurez pas, mon Breitmann!
Je trouve cela trop fort,"
Gry der Colonel sehr politely;
"
How! - you crois dat I was
mort!
Mon Dieu! 'Tis but one minute,
As we galloped to this plain,
I thought your spear, mon gaillard,
Would kill me o'er again.
Je vous fais mon compliment,
Your tendresse becomes you well;
Et ne pleurez pas, mon brave,
Pour la petite demoiselle.
I have had a thousand since;
One can always find such game;
Et pour dire la vérité,
I have quite forgot her name.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153