Part 20 (1/2)

[Here he drinks out his gla.s.s, as each one does in his turn, after having sung.]

THE KRaHWINKLER LANDSTURM.

But march you slow there before, but still march slow there before, Or the Krahwinkler Landsturm can follow no more.

What a jolly time the maidens have though,-- They're not compelled to the war to go.

Pittschaft--Dame hostess, cook you Millet-bree, When the Landsturm comes it will hungry be.

Chorus--[As above, and repeated after the singing of each strophe.]

Freisleben--Our captain is from Rudolstadt, He eats a deal, but hungers for all that.

Von Kronen--Sir Captain! my follower goes so in trot, That scarcely a sc.r.a.p of heel I have got.

Enderlin-- At Leipsic, in the People's-Fight, We had nearly taken a prisoner quite.

Eckhard-- The artillery would have fought right well, But of powder it can not bear the smell.

Hoffmann (for Mr. Traveller)--The cavalry stout doth charge amain, And is always in when the dumpling's slain.

Hoffmann.--Still farther goes our Lumpitus yet once more around!

At Hamburgh burst a dreadful bomb, Potz Wetter! how ran we there all and some!

And as the foe came galloping fast, We hid in the gra.s.s till they were past.

The Krahwinkle Landsturm hath courage high, The baggage it always standeth by.

Our Captain is a most valiant wight, 'Tis only a pity he can not fight.

They gave us a banner moreover to show, Which way the wind did chance to blow.

Run, run, brave comrades, run left and right-- A French sentry-box stands there in sight!

This song was written originally in ridicule of the Austrian Landwehr.

It has almost endless strophes, of which a few only are here given. It is very frequently used as a Round-song or roundelay, in which each person must sing a fresh verse, and when the known verses are at an end, some one extemporizes, so that every day it becomes richer in strophes. The sixth strophe is then usually sung as the conclusion.

Hoffmann.--I fill the gla.s.ses, and then let us sound a still greater Lumpitus.

Hoffman-- My brethren, when no more I'm drinking, But faint with gout and palsy lie, Exhausted on the death-bed sinking, Believe it then, my end is nigh. [Repeated as a Chorus.

Freisleben-- A lordly life the Pope doth hold, He lives on absolution gold; The best of wines still drinketh he-- The Pope, the Pope I fain would be.

Von Kronen-- Brothers! in this place of festive meeting, G.o.d in goodness hath us thus combined; Let us every trouble now defeating, Drink here with the friend of honest mind.

There, where nectar glows--Valleralla!

Sweetest pleasure blows--Valleralla!

E'en as flowers when the spring hath s.h.i.+ned.