Now id hoppinet to gome to bass,
dat in dis little town,
De Deutsch vas all exshpegdin’
dat Mishder Schmit coom down,
His brinciples to foresetzen
und his idées to deach—
(Id est, fix oop de brifate pargains)—
und telifer a pooplic shbeech.

Now Twine vas a gyrotwistive
cuss ash blainly ish peen shown,
Und vas always an out—
findin’ votefer might pe known,
Und mit some of his circumswindles
he fix de matter so,
Dat he’d pe himself at dis meeding,
und see how dings vas go.

Oh shdrangely in dis leben
de dings kits vorked apout,
Oh voonderly Fortuna
makes doorn us inside out.
Oh sinkular de loock-vheel rolls—
dis liddle meeding dere,
Fixt Twine ad perpendiculum:—
shoosh suit him to a hair.

Now it hopponet on dis efenin’,
de Deutschers von und all,
Vere erwaitin’ mit oonpatience
de onfang of de Ball,
Und de shates of nighdt vere fallin’
und de shdars pegin to plink,
Und dey vish dat Schmit vouldt hoory,
for ’twas dime to dake a trink.

Dey hear some hoofs a dramplin’—
und dey saw und dinked dey know’d,
De bretty greature coomin’
on his horse entlang de road,
Und ash he ride town invard
de likeness vas so blain,
Dey donnered out “Hoora for Schmit!”
enof to make it rain.

Der Twine vas shdart like plazes—
boot oop shdardet too his vit,
Und he dinks, “Great turnips!—
vhot if I couldt bass for Colonel Schmit!
Gaul darn my heels I’ll do it—
and go the total swine,
Oh soap balls!—what a chance!”
said dis dissembulatin’ Twine.

Denn ’twas “Willkomm! willkomm!
Mishder Schmit!” rings aroom on efery site,
Und “First-rate—how dy do, yourself?”
der Hiram Twine replied,
Dey ashk him “Coom und dake a trink”—
boot dey find id mighdy gueer,
Vhen Twine informed em none boot hogs
vould trink dat shtinkin’ bier.

Dat lager vas nodings boot boison,
und as for Sharman wein,
He dinks it vas erfounden exbressly
for Sharman schwein,
Dat he himself was a demperanceler,
dat he gloria in de name,
Und adfised dem all for tecence’s sake
to go und do de same.

Dese bemarks, among de Deutschers,
vere apout as vell receife,
Ash cats in a game of den-pins—
ash you may of coorse peliefe,
De heats of de recebtion
vent down a dootzen degrees,
Und in blace of hurraws was only heardt
de roostlin’ of de drees.

Und so in solemn stille
dey scorched him to de hall,
Vhere he maket de crate oradion
vhitch vas so moosh to blease dem all,
Und dis vay he pegin it:
“Pefore I furder go,
I vish dat my obinions,
you puddin-het Dutch, shouldt know.

“Und eher I norate furder,
I dink it only fair,
Ve shouldt oonderstand each oder,
prezackly, chunk and square;
Dere are points on vitch ve tisagree,
und I will plank de facts—
I tont go round slanganderin’
my friendts pehind deir packs.

“So I beg you dake it easy,
if on de raw I touch,
Vhen I say I can’t apide de sound
of your groonting shishing Dootch,
Should I in de Legisladure
as your slumgullion stand,
I’ll have a bill forbidding Dutch,
droo all dis ’versal land.

“Should a husband talk it to his frau,
to deat’ he should pe led,
If a mutter breat’ it to her shild,
I’d bunch her in de head;
Und I’m sure dat none vill atvocate
id’s use in pooplic schools,
Oonless dey’re peastly, nashdy,
prutal, saur-kraut eadin’ fools.”

Here Mishder Twine, to gadder breat’,
shoost make a liddle pause,
Und see sechs hundert gapin’ eyes—
sechs hundert shdaring’ chaws!
Dey shtanden erstarrt like frozen—
von faindly dried to hiss:—
Und von saidt: “Ish id shleeps I’m treamin’—
Gottstausend!—vhot ish dis?

Twine keptet von eye on de vindow,—
boot boldly vent ahet,
“Of your oder shtinkin’ hobits
no vordt needt here pe set;
Shdop goozlin’ bier—shdop shmokin’ bipes—
shdop rootin’ in de mire,
Und shoost un-Dutchify yourselfs!—
dat’s all dat I require.”

Und denn dere coomed a shindy
ash if de shky hat trop:
“Trow him mit ecks, py doonder!—
go—shlog him on de kop!
Hei! shoot him mit a powie-knifes!—
go for him, ganz and gar!
Shoost tar him mit some fedders!—
led’s fedder him mit tar!”

Sooch a teufel’s row of furie
vas nefer oopkicket pefore,—
Some roosh to on-climb de blatform,—
some hoory to festen de toor,—
Von veller vired his refolfer—
boot de pullet missed her mark,
She coot de cort of de shandelier—
it vell—und de hall vas tark!

Oh vell vas it for Hiram Twine
dat nimply he couldt shoomp!
Und vell dat he light on a mist-hauf
und nefer feel de boomp!
Und vell for him dat his coot cray horse
shtood sottelet shoost outside!
Und vell dat in an augenblick
he vas off on a teufel’s ride!

Bang! bang! de sharp pistolen shots
vent pipin’ py his ear,
Boot he tortled oop de barrick road
like any moundain deer,
Dey trowed der Hiram Twine mit shteins—
boot dey only could be-mark
Von climpse of his vhite ober-coat—
und a clotterin’ droo de dark.

So dey gesempeled togeder,
ein ander to sprechen mit,
Und allow dat soosh a Rede
dey nefer exshpegt from Schmit!
Dat he vas a foorst-glass plackguard,
und so pig a lump ash ran,
So—nemine contradicente—
dey vented for Breitemann.

Und ’twas annerthalb yar dere after
before de Schmit vas know,
Vhat maket dis rural fillage
go pack oopon him so,
Und he schwored at de Dutch more schlimmer
ash Hiram Twine had done,—
Note bene: he tid it in earnest,
while der Hiram’s vas pusiness-fun.

Boot vhen Breitmann heardt de shtory
how de fillage hat been dricked,
He schwore bei Leib und Leben,
dat he’d rader hafe peen licked,
Dan be helpet droo sooch slumgoozlin’,—
und ’twas petter to pe a schwein,
Dan a schvindlin’, honeyfooglin’ shnake,
like dat lyin’ Yankee Twine.

Und pegot so heavy disgootet
mit de boledics of dis land,
Dat his friendts could barely keep him
from trowin’ oop his hand,
Vhen he held shtraight-flush mit an ace in his poot—
vitch phrase ish all de same,
In de science of pokerology,
ash if he got de game.

So Breitmann cot elegdet,
py vollowin’ de vay,
Ve manage our elegdions
oonto dis fery day.
Dis shows de Deutch Dummehrlichkeit—
also de Yankee “wit:”—
Das ist das abenteuer
how Breitmann lick der Schmit.