The German is a stolid soul, And finds best suited to his taste A pipe with an enormous bowl, A fraulein with an ample waist; He loves his beer, his Kaiser, and (Donner und blitz! ) his Fatherland!
He's perfectly contented if He listens in the Op'ra-house To Wagner's well-concealed 'motif,' Or waltzes of the nimble Strauss; And all discordant bands he sends Abroad, to soothe his foreign friends.
When he is glad at anything He cheers like a dyspeptic goat, 'Hoch! hoch! ' You'd think him suffering From some affection of the throat. A disagreeable noise, 'tis true, But pleases him and don't hurt you!
_MORAL_
A glass of lager underneath the bough, A long 'churchwarden' and an ample 'frau' Beside me sitting in a Biergarten, Ach! Biergarten were paradise enow!
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