Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas,
To see vot he could hear.
He foundt soom Deutschers dat exisdt
Py makin' lager beer.
Says he: "Wie gehts du Alt Gesell?"
But nodings could be heard;
Dey'd growed so fat in Kansas
Dat dey couldn't speak a vord.

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas;
Py shings! I dell you vot,
Von day he met a crisly bear
Dat rooshed him down, bei Gott!
Boot der Breitmann took und bind der bear
Und bleased him fery much-
For efery vordt der crisly growled
Vas goot Bavarian Dutch!

Hans Breitmann vent to Kansas!
By donder dat is so!
He ridet oout upon de blains
To shase de boofalo.
He fired his rifle at de bools,
Und gallop droo de shmoke,
Und shoomp de canyons shoost as if
Der teufel vas a choke!

It's hey de trail to Santa Fe;
It's ho! agross de plain;
It's lope along de Denver road,