Auerbach’s Wine-cellar, Leipzig.

A Bout of Merry Fellows.

Frosch. Will no one sing? none crack a joke? I’ll teach you to make saucy faces! Like old wet straw to-day you smoke, While bright as flame your wonted blaze is.

Brander. The blame lies with yourself, for you have given us To-day no fun nor frolic to enliven us.

Frosch. [throwing a glass of wine over his head] There hast thou both!

Brander. Double swine!

Frosch. You asked a joke—I gave it you in wine!

Siebel. Out at the door with all who dare to quarrel! Give all your pipes full play! this is no place to snarl. Up! hollo! ho!

Altmayer. Woe’s me! the devil and his crew are here! Some cotton, ho! he makes my ear-drum crack.

Siebel. Roar on! for, when the vault loud echoes back, The deep bass notes come thundering on the ear.

Frosch. Right, right! out with each saucy fellow! A! tara lara da!

Altmayer. A tara lara da!

Frosch. Our throats are now quite mellow. [Sings.] The holy Roman empire now, How does it hold together? A clumsy song!—fie! a political song! A scurvy song! thank God, with each to-morrow, The Roman empire can give you small sorrow; For me, I deem I’m wealthier and wiser For being neither Chancellor nor Kaiser. Yet even we must have a head to rule us; Let’s choose a pope in drinking well to school us, Come, well you know the qualification That lifts a man to consideration.

Frosch. [sings] Mount up, lady nightingale, Greet my love ten thousand times!

Siebel. No, sir, not once,—I’ll hear no more of this.

Frosch. But you shall hear!—A greeting and a kiss! [He sings.] Ope the door in silent night. Ope and let me in, I pray; Shut the door, the morn is bright, Shut it, love, I must away!

Siebel. Yes! sing and sing! belaud her, and berhyme! I’ll have my laugh at that—all in good time! She jilted me right rarely; soon She’ll make thee sing to the same tune; ’Twere fit a Kobold with his love should bless her, On some cross-road to cocker and caress her; Or that some old he-goat, that tramps away From merry Blocksberg on the first of May, Should greet her passing with a lusty baa! An honest man of genuine flesh and blood Is for the wench by far too good. Batter her doors, her windows shiver, That’s all the serenade I’d give her!

Brander. [striking the table] Gentlemen, hear! only attend to me, You’ll see that I know how to live. If love-sick people here there be, To honor them, I’m bound to give A song brimful of the most melting passion. I’ll sing a ditty of the newest fashion! Give ear! and with full swell sonorous, Let each and all ring forth the chorus! [He sings.] In a pantry-hole there lived a rat, On bacon and on butter, It had a paunch as round and fat As Doctor Martin Luther. The cook placed poison in its way, It felt as straitened all the day, As if it had love in its body.

Chorus. [shouting] As if it had love in its body.

Brander. It ran within, it ran without, And sipped in every puddle; And scratched and gnawed, but bettered not The fever of its noddle. With many a twinge it tossed and tossed, Seemed ready to give up the ghost, As if it had love in its body.

Chorus. As if it had love in its body.

Brander. It left its hole for very pain, Into the kitchen crawling, And snuffling there with might and main, Upon the earth lay sprawling. The cook she laughed when she saw it die; “It squeaks,” quoth she, “with its latest sigh, As if it had love in its body.”

Chorus. As if it had love in its body.

Siebel. How the hard-hearted boys rejoice! As if it were a trade so choice To teach the rats and mice to die!

Brander. Rats find great favor in your eyes.

Altmayer. The oily paunch! the bald pate! he Has eyes of sorrow for the creature: For why? he could not fail to see In the swoll’n rat his own best feature!