 | Echoes of Spring |  |
FRITZ MOHLER'S DREAM.
It was a cold and wintry night,
The snow fell thick and fast;
All living creatures far and near,
Had sheltered from the blast.
Bill Wickmann's bar was crowded;
With loafers boistous loud;
Scott Johnson, with his banjo,
Made music for the crowd.
The snow fell thick and fast;
All living creatures far and near,
Had sheltered from the blast.
Bill Wickmann's bar was crowded;
With loafers boistous loud;
Scott Johnson, with his banjo,
Made music for the crowd.
“Kum poys un' have vun thrink on me!”
Bill Wickmann shouted loud;
Scott Johnson dropped his banjo,
And elbowed through the crowd.
The black man sang a health he did,
The white fo'kes stood around;
He knocked a fancy step or two,
Then quaffed the brandy down.
Bill Wickmann shouted loud;
Scott Johnson dropped his banjo,
And elbowed through the crowd.
The black man sang a health he did,
The white fo'kes stood around;
He knocked a fancy step or two,
Then quaffed the brandy down.
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Scarce had the crowd retreated,
To card and billiard game,
In came a large old German,
Fritz Mohler was his name.
A queer, old-looking, fellow,
His head was large and round;
His shoulders stooped, his curled hair gray;
His voice a husky sound.
To card and billiard game,
In came a large old German,
Fritz Mohler was his name.
A queer, old-looking, fellow,
His head was large and round;
His shoulders stooped, his curled hair gray;
His voice a husky sound.
He paused to gaze upon the crowd,
At Johnson, who was singing
An old time, lively banjo-song,
Droll rhymes and music ringing.
He sang about the Polly Wogg,
The snake, and tera pin's, habbit;
The June-bug, possum, and the coon,
The big-eyed, stub-tailed, rabbit.
At Johnson, who was singing
An old time, lively banjo-song,
Droll rhymes and music ringing.
He sang about the Polly Wogg,
The snake, and tera pin's, habbit;
The June-bug, possum, and the coon,
The big-eyed, stub-tailed, rabbit.
Sang something, 'bout old uncle Gabe,
Who 'stonished the plantation,
“With pisin vipa's up his sleeves,”
And other conjurations.
Sang something 'bout the crow and crane,
And how he went a kitin,'
“Wid his ole maustah's span of mules,
Way down the road to Bright'n.”
Who 'stonished the plantation,
“With pisin vipa's up his sleeves,”
And other conjurations.
Sang something 'bout the crow and crane,
And how he went a kitin,'
“Wid his ole maustah's span of mules,
Way down the road to Bright'n.”
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Fritz gazed upon that colored man,
No mirth was in his look
Until his song had reached the end;
With laughter Mohler shook.
“Vell poys, let's take a thrink oon dot,
Dot means fo' vun un all,”
The bottles clanked and each man drank,
But Scott refused the call.
No mirth was in his look
Until his song had reached the end;
With laughter Mohler shook.
“Vell poys, let's take a thrink oon dot,
Dot means fo' vun un all,”
The bottles clanked and each man drank,
But Scott refused the call.
“Vell Chonson, call you vunce agin;
Coom up un haf a clas o' jin!
Vot make you in dot corner stand?
You, look yest like a demperence man.
Be not ashame Got made you plack,
Coom valk right quick tis vay
Dot should n't make your spirit lack,
All men be mate of clay.
Coom up un haf a clas o' jin!
Vot make you in dot corner stand?
You, look yest like a demperence man.
Be not ashame Got made you plack,
Coom valk right quick tis vay
Dot should n't make your spirit lack,
All men be mate of clay.
A vite cow's milk, be vite you know;
A plack cow's milk, be yest like snow.
A plack man's principal 's the same,
If he ches thri to keep his name.”
Then Johnson took a “pony,”
And sang a toast along;
Fritz Mohler o'er his lager-beer,
Sang loud a German Song.
A plack cow's milk, be yest like snow.
A plack man's principal 's the same,
If he ches thri to keep his name.”
Then Johnson took a “pony,”
And sang a toast along;
Fritz Mohler o'er his lager-beer,
Sang loud a German Song.
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The men all boozed and jolly,
The blazing fire agleam,
“Coom poys!” old Mohler shouted;
“I vish to del mine thream!”
The blazing fire agleam,
“Coom poys!” old Mohler shouted;
“I vish to del mine thream!”
THE DREAM
“Me thream last Tu' stay night you know,
Dot night de ground vas vite mit snow,
Each star vas bright, the vin dit plo;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Dot night de ground vas vite mit snow,
Each star vas bright, the vin dit plo;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Me thream ven I vas in mine bet,
Me heard a noisy foot step tret,
Mine hair stood straight upon my het;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Me knew it vas a thief you pet,
But vas too fraid to catch him, yet
I tiptoed out mine house an' set;
Und all tis vas a thream.
Me heard a noisy foot step tret,
Mine hair stood straight upon my het;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Me knew it vas a thief you pet,
But vas too fraid to catch him, yet
I tiptoed out mine house an' set;
Und all tis vas a thream.
He valked so easy like a mouse,
He mate right for mine shicken house;
He pushed dot door, he made vun souse;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Und ten me yelled out pretty quick,
Me threw at him, tis hick'ry stick,
Und ten at me he fired a brick
Dot vas a funny thream.
He mate right for mine shicken house;
He pushed dot door, he made vun souse;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Und ten me yelled out pretty quick,
Me threw at him, tis hick'ry stick,
Und ten at me he fired a brick
Dot vas a funny thream.
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He looked yest like Scott Chonson here,
Far ten he vas upon me near,
Und ten me yelled mit dreadful fear;
Dot vas a funny thream.
He stole from me tree shickens vite;
He turnt an ran mit all his might;
Over te fence an' 'cross te lawn;
I voke fen day vas shining bright,
Und found tree of mine shickens gone.
Far ten he vas upon me near,
Und ten me yelled mit dreadful fear;
Dot vas a funny thream.
He stole from me tree shickens vite;
He turnt an ran mit all his might;
Over te fence an' 'cross te lawn;
I voke fen day vas shining bright,
Und found tree of mine shickens gone.
Scott Johnson 'rose with fury;
And shouted, “Look ah heah!
You say I stole dem chickens, sah,
You got to make dat clear!
All night you've flung yo' hints about,
An' now ole man you jes' look out!
Dis sortah talk will nevah do,
Or I will “pick a crow” wif you;
I did n't steal yo' chickens!
And shouted, “Look ah heah!
You say I stole dem chickens, sah,
You got to make dat clear!
All night you've flung yo' hints about,
An' now ole man you jes' look out!
Dis sortah talk will nevah do,
Or I will “pick a crow” wif you;
I did n't steal yo' chickens!
“Me did n't say you stole tem Scott,
Vot fah you got at me so hot?
A thream be sometimes vat its not,
Dot vas a funny thream!
I missed mine shickens, dot vas true,
I saw a plack man yest like you,
I voke an vas tree shickens out,
Un dot is all I know about;
Dot vas a funny thream!
Vot fah you got at me so hot?
A thream be sometimes vat its not,
Dot vas a funny thream!
I missed mine shickens, dot vas true,
I saw a plack man yest like you,
I voke an vas tree shickens out,
Un dot is all I know about;
Dot vas a funny thream!
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So Chonson, dot vud make you clear,
So let us haf a clas of peer!
Me pleve tis getin' late me fear,
Dot only vas a thream!
And so these two men drank again,
But neither sang a song;
Old Fritz still believe his dream is right;
And Scott still swear 'twas wrong.
So let us haf a clas of peer!
Me pleve tis getin' late me fear,
Dot only vas a thream!
And so these two men drank again,
But neither sang a song;
Old Fritz still believe his dream is right;
And Scott still swear 'twas wrong.
| Echoes of Spring | |