  I haf von funny leedle poy, Vot gomes schust to mine knee; Der queerest schap, der createst rogue, As efer you dit see. He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings In all barts off der house; But vot off dot? he was mine son, Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss. He get der measles und der mumbs, Und eferyding dot's oudt; He sbills mine glass of lager bier, Poots schnuff indo mine kraut. He fills mine pipe mit limburg cheese: Dot vas der roughest chouse; I'd dake dot vrom no oder poy But leedle Yawcob Strauss. He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum, Und cuts mine cane in dwo; To make der schtiks to beat it mit,— Mine cracious, dot vas drue! I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart, He kicks oup sooch a touse: But nefer mind; der poys vas few Like dot young Yawcob Strauss. He asks me questions sooch as dese: Who baints mine nose so red? Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt Vrom der hair ubon mine hed? Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp Vene'er der glim I douse. How gan I all dose dings eggsblain To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss? I somedimes dink I schall go vild Mit sooch a grazy poy, Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest, Und beaceful dimes enshoy; So guiet as a mouse, I prays der Lord, "dake anyding, But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss." C. F. Adams. |
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