DER Breitmann sits in la Sorbonne, <br />A note-pook in his hand, <br />'Tvas dere he vent to lectures, <br />Und in oldt Louis le Grand. <br />Id's more ash two und dwendy years <br />Since here I used mein pen; <br />Oh, where ish all de characders, <br />Dat I hafe known since denn? <br /> <br />Der cratest boet efer vas, <br />Der pest I efer known, <br />Vent lecdures here, too, shoost like me, <br />Le Sieur Francoys Villon. <br />He raise de teufel all arount, <br />He hear de Sorbonne chime; <br />Crate shpirid ender in mein heart, <br />Und mofe mein soul to rhyme. <br /> <br /> <br />BALADE. <br /> <br />Dictes moy - in what shpirit land <br />Ish Clara Lafontaine? <br />Or Pomare, or La Frisette, <br />Who blazed on soosh a train? <br />Shveet Echo flings de quesdion pack, <br />O'er lake or shdreamlet lone; <br />All eartly peauty fades afay, <br />Vhere ish dem lofed ones gone? <br /> <br />Oh, vhere ish Lola Montez now, <br />So loved in efery land? <br />How oft I shmoked dose cigarettes <br />She rollt mit vairy hand! <br />Dat mighdy soul, dat shplendit brick, <br />A saint's pecome to be, <br />For mit soosh saints der Breitmann make <br />His Hagiologie. <br /> <br />Und vhere ish La Pochardinette? <br />Ish she too mit de dead? <br />She loafed de Latin Quarter mit <br />A hat und fedder on her het. <br />Lebe wohl petite Pochardinette! <br />Qui ne safait refuser, <br />Ni la ponche a la bleine ferre, <br />Ni sa pouche a un paiser. <br /> <br />O Prince! dese quesdions all are nix, <br />I sit here all alone, <br />Mit von refrain to end de shdrain, <br />Vhere ish mein lofed vons gone? <br />Vhen Marcovitch has cut und run, <br />Und Schneider's off de ving, <br />Some cray old reprobate like me <br />Vill of dese lofed vons sing.<br /><br />Charles Godfrey Leland<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/breitmann-in-la-sorbonne/
