You creenpacks mit your swordt und vatch, right ofer
you moost shell,
Und den you goes to Libby stright - und after dat to h-ll!"

"Mein creenpacks and mein schlaeger, I kits 'em in New York,
To gife dem up to creenhorns, young man, is not de talk;"
De heroes shtopped deir sassin' here und grossed deir sabres dwice,
Und de vay dese Deutschers vent to vork vos von pig ding on ice.

Der younger fetch de older such a gottallmachty shmack
Der Breitmann dinks he really hears his skool go shplit and crack;
Der repel shoomps dwelfe paces back, und so he safe his life:
Der Breitmann says: "I guess dem shoomps, you
learns dem of your vife."

"If I should learn of vomans I dinks it vere a shame,
Bei Gott I am a shentleman, aristograt, and game.
My fader vos anoder - I lose him fery young-
Der Teufel take your soul! Coom on! I'll split your
vaggin' tongue!"

A Yankee drick der Breitmann dried - dat oldt gray-pearded man-
For ash the repel raised his swordt, beneat' dat sword he ran.
All round der shlim yoong repels vaist his arms oldt
Breitmann pound,
Und shlinged him down oopon his pack and laidt him on der ground.

"Who rubs against olt kittle-pots may keep vhite - if he can,
Say vot you dinks of vightin' now mit dis oldt shentleman?
Your dime is oop; you got to die, und I your breest vill pe;