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Title: Fritz On The English
Author: Abner Cosens [
More Titles by Cosens]
Ven I fights mit dose Englishmans yet,
Dere vas tings vy I nefer can't see,
Und, dis time I'm certain, you bet!
Either dey must pe crazy or me.
Dey vill bay von beeg price for a king,
But as soon as he put on his crown,
Und vould try to pe doing some ting,
Dey say,--"Go avay pack und sit down."
Ven dey get all dose blace in de sun,
Und de blaces vere grows de beeg trees,
Ven already de hard vork is done,
Den John Bull say,--"Shoost go as you blease."
If in Dublin a feller rebels,
Britty soon on a rope he vill shwing,
But go free, so mine newsbaper tells,
If in Ulster he do de same ting.
Johnnie Bull prings his pread und his meat
From de ends of de vorld far avay,
Vile de lands vere he ought to grow veat,
Dem's de blaces de pheasants will shtay,
Ven he say dat he nefer vill fight,
But vill shtick mit his vork und his blay
Dat vas lies he vas telling all right,
For he fight like de teufel to-day.
Und dose beeples dat nefer had vorked,
All dose soft-handed ladies und shwells,
Und de fellers dat always had shirked,
Haf got busy now making de shells.
If ve're brisoners, vounded or sick,
Shoost so soon ve fall into deir hand,
Den dey doctor und feed us oop shlick;
Dese are tings dat I can't understand.
[The end]
Abner Cosens's poem: Fritz On The English
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