Hold Hard!" cried der Ritter von Slang.

De oldt man ope his eyes like a casement,
Und laid a cold hand on his prow,
Denn mutter in ootmosdt amazement,
"Vot manner of mordal art dou?
I hafe lifed in dis world a yar tausend,
Und nefer yed met soosh a ding!
Yet you find it hart vork to pe spouse, and
Peloved by de Lady von Sling!

"Und she vant you to roll from de tower
Down shteps to yon rifulet spot."
(Here de knight, whom amazement o'erbower,
Cried, "Himmels potz pumpen Herr Gott!")
Boot de oldt veller saidt: "I'll arrange it,
Let your droples und sorrows co hang!
Und nodings vill coom to derange it-
Pet high on it, Ritter von Slang.

"So get oop dis small oonderstandin,
Dat to-morrow by ten, do you hear?
You'll pe mit your trunk at de landin;
I'll also be dere-nefer fear!
Und I dinks we shall make your young voman
A new kind of meloty sing;
Dat vain, wicked, cruel, unhuman,
Gott-tamnaple Fraulein von Sling."

De fiolet shdars vere apofe him,