  The good their gifts in dream enjoy, How did it fare with thee? Scarce feeling it, you’ve got a boy, Poor virgin Germany! This boy an urchin frolicsome Ere long shall we behold; A first-rate archer he’ll become, As Cupid was of old. He’ll pierce the soaring eagle through; And, proudly though he fly, The double-headed eagle too Struck by his bolt, shall die. But that blind heathen God of love Will he resemble not In wearing neither clothes nor glove, Nor be a sans-culotte. The seasons in our land combine With morals and police To make both old and young incline To wear their clothes in peace. |
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