Und I heard de Sout Deutschers say "Ave Morie!
Braise Gott all goot shpirids py land und by sea!"

Boot Itzig of Frankfort he lift oop his nose,
Und be-mark dat de shpook hat peen changin' his clothes,
For he seemed like an Generalissimus drest
In a vlamin' new coat und magnificent vest.
Six bistols beschlagen mit silber he vore,
Und a cold mounded swordt like a Kaisar he bore,
Und ve dinks dat de ghosdt - or votever he pe-
Moost hafe proken some panks on his vay to de sea.

"Id is he!""Und er lebt noch!" he lifes ve all say:
"Der Breitmann - Oldt Breitmann! - Hans Breitmann! Herr Je!"
Und ve roosh to emprace him, und shtill more ve find
Dat vherefer he'd peen, he'd left noding pehine.
In bofe of his poots dere vas porte-moneys crammed,
Mit creen-packs stoof full all his haversack jammed,
In his bockets cold dollars vere shinglin' deir doons
Mit dwo doozen votches und four dozen shpoons,
Und dwo silber tea-pods for makin' his dea,
Der ghosdt hafe pring mit him, en route to de sea.

Mit goot sweed-botatoes, und doorkies, und rice,
Ve makes him a sooper of efery dings nice.
Und de bummers hoont roundt apout, alle wie ein,
Dill dey findt a plantaschion mit parrels of wein.
Den t'vas "Here's to you, Breitmann! Alt Schwed"[18] - bist zuruck?
Vot teufels you makes since dis fourteen nights veek?"
Und ve holds von shtupendous and derriple shpree