IN Oberhausen, on a time, I fared as might a king; And now I feel the muse sublime Inspire me to embalm in rhyme
That succulent and sapid thing Behight of gentile and of Jew A gosling stew! The good Herr Schmitz brought out his best,—
Soup, cutlet, salad, roast,— And I partook with hearty zest, And fervently anon I blessed That generous and benignant host,
When suddenly dawned on my view A gosling stew! I sniffed it coming on apace, And as its odors filled
The curious little dining-place, I felt a glow suffuse my face, I felt my very marrow thrilled With rapture altogether new,—
‘ Twas gosling stew! These callow birds had never played In yonder village pond; Had never through the gateway strayed,
And plaintive spissant music made Upon the grassy green beyond: Cooped up, they simply ate and grew For gosling stew!
My doctor said I must n't eat High food and seasoned game; But surely gosling is a meat With tender nourishment replete.
Leastwise I gayly ate this same; I braved dyspepsy — would n't you For gosling stew? I've feasted where the possums grow,
Roast turkey have I tried, The joys of canvasbacks I know, And frequently I've eaten crow In bleak and chill Novembertide;
I'd barter all that native crew For gosling stew! And when from Rhineland I adjourn To seek my Yankee shore,
Back shall my memory often turn, And fiercely shall my palate burn For sweets I'll taste, alas! no more,— Oh, that mein kleine frau could brew
A gosling stew! Vain are these keen regrets of mine, And vain the song I sing; Yet would I quaff a stoup of wine
To Oberhausen auf der Rhine, Where fared I like a very king: And here's a last and fond adieu To gosling stew!
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