Dey vent indo a shpordin' crib,
De rowdies cloostered dick,
Dey ashk him dell dem vot o'glock,
Und dat infernal quick.
Der Breitmann draw'd his 'volver oud,
Ash gool ash gool couldt pe,
"Id's shoost a goin' to shdrike six,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent polid'gal meedins next
Dey hear dem rant and rail,
Der bresident vas a forger,
Shoost bardoned oud of jail.
He does it oud of cratitood,
To dem who set him vree:
"Id's Harmonie of Inderesds,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vent to a clairfoyand witch,
A plack-eyed handsome maid,
She wahrsagt all deir vortunes - denn
"Fife dollars, gents!" she said.
"Dese vitches are nod of dis eart',
Und yed are on id, I see,
Der Shakesbeare knew de preed right vell,"
Said Breitemann, said he.

Dey vented to a restaurand,
Der vaiter coot a dash;
He garfed a shicken in a vink,