The German is a stolid soul,
And finds best suited to his taste
A pipe with an enormous bowl,
A fraulein with an ample waist;
He loves his beer, his Kaiser, and
( Donner und blitz! ) his Fatherland!
He's perfectly contented if
He listens in the Op'ra-house
To Wagner's well-concealed‘ motif,’
Or waltzes of the nimble Strauss;
And all discordant bands he sends
Abroad, to soothe his foreign friends.
When he is glad at anything
He cheers like a dyspeptic goat,
‘ Hoch! hoch!’ You'd think him suffering
From some affection of the throat.
A disagreeable noise,‘ tis true,
But pleases him and do n't hurt you!
A glass of lager underneath the bough,
A long‘ churchwarden’ and an ample‘ frau’
Beside me sitting in a Biergarten,
Ach! Biergarten were paradise enow!