E are ze vhandering Shermans,

Ve cooms vrom o'er ze sea,

Ve plays ze lovely music,

Of all ze great countree,

Ve all of us have romance,

Of life, so bigs to say,

I'll sing a verse for each man,

Ze vile ze band vill play.

Vings zerring zanzeraza,

Ve cooms from o'er ze sea,

Ve plays ze lovely music,

Of all ze great countree.

Zare's Herr Von Zingerpofel,

No prouder man vos he,

Zan ven he loved ze Fraulien

Afar in Shermanie.

But ven he found ze noders

Golds ring upon her hand,

He played on ze thriangles,

Und left ze Sherman land!

Zare's Blunder Bogle Fogen,

Vot bangs on ze big dhrum,

Thought all ze poor, und rich man,

Should own ze even sum;

Ze government vos differed,

But on ze prison valks,

He doubled up ze gaoler,

Und zen, he valked ze chalks!

Zare's Dreker Mandertoofel,

Ze opheclide he plays,

He'll never more see nodings,

Of all his happiest days;

He only blows ze music,

Because it brings ze cheer,

Of great big pipes of shmokin',

Und shugs of Lager Beer!

Zare's him vot puffs ze oboe,

In oder days vos he,

Of Heidelberg, a student

Ze pride of Shermanie,

But he did love der Lager,

Zoo mooch of Docter-Vien,

He killed ze man in duel!

Und he vos no more seen.

Zare's Mungen Val Tarara,

A Sherman born in Cork,

Und he vos von too many,

Because he vould not vork,

Now you vill be imagine,

Zat I must oondherstand,

Zat I vill tell ze story

Of leader of ze band,

But if I must, I'll speaks it,

All in ze simple rune,

So I vill stop ze music,

Ze tale is out of tune!

'Twas I vos vonce a Uhlan, who rode mit all ze band,

Zat von Alsace, und Lorraine, from Vrance vor Vaterland,

Ven in ze pits at Gravelotte, I lay von night to die,

I voke! for I vos faintings to hear ze voman sigh!

Und shust vere I vas vounded, I saw ze voman's zere,

Vos bound mine arm from bleeding, mit her own golden hair!

She nursed me through ze danger, und ven zere's peace again,

I svore zat I vould ved her, ze Fraulein of Lorraine.

I kissed my love von mornings, her vite face on my heart,

Mit sobs her eyes vos veeping, ze time vos come to part.

Ze Var vas not yet ended, I heard ze thrompet blow,

Zat I must rise, und answer, und leave ze sveetheart so!

Mine blood run cold zat mornings, und I felt somedings here,

Vos in my throat come choking, und on my cheek ze tear,

Vor O I vould not lose her, ze glory on me now,

Zat I vos hope to bless me, mit Cosette vor mine Frau.

I marched avay to Paris, vere all around vos dire,

Mit shmoke, und blood, und thunder, und fret, und woe und fire!

Und ven ze siege vos over, mit thrumpet und mit dhrum,

Vonce more again thro' Lorraine, ze Sherman bands did come.

I vent to find ze sveetheart, but grass vos on ze slain,

Ze cruel Var had murdered ze Fraulein of Lorraine!—

Shust vere mine heart is beating, I keep ze treasure zare,

Mit mine own blood upon it, von braid of golden hair,

Und all dried up und vithered, und gone to dust again,

Von flower zat vonce vos jewelled ze grave zats in Lorraine.

Ah vot is deed of glory, ven blood is on ze vings

Of love, zat makes ze heaven on earth, und vot are kings?

Auch! I vill have no patience. Strike up ze Band again,

Or I grow mad mit dhreamings, vot happened in Lorraine!

Vings zerring zanzaraza, ve cooms from o'er ze sea,

Ve plays ze lovely music, of all ze great countree.

Ve all of us have romance of life so bigs to say,

Vings zerring zanzaraza, ze vile ze band vill play.