16
THE BATTALION.
cheese, we keeps in we pantry. But she sholy walk!
All—Den dat is g’oot!
Mrs. Roseng-arten (to her husband)—Mine man, if
de oldt darky wondt bring- in fweeuf glass beer andt a big-
lot of pretzel, how we coudt our morg-en meal enchoy!
Fritz—You haf pretzel, oldt man? And g’oot beer?
Cyrus—Beer and bretzel, oh yes! (Talking- to himself)
Great me, how de buckrah hab diffrunce ’mung ’um!
Po’ buckrah, him call fo wisky an slapjack. Real true-
true buckrah, him motion fo claret an bakah loaf, dese
yah jummum, dey sing out fo beer an bretzle (Exit.)
Miss Rosie—Dis shirred egg is goot. You try it, Karl.
Mr. DoeMinger—You call me Karl from dat song:
“I vill not let dee kiss me ven awake,
But in my treams, Karl,
I cannot count de kisses dou dost take,
Despite my screams, Karl.”
But I radder you call me, Maurice.
Miss Rosie—Well, I’ll call you Maurice, if you break
dis crab claw for me.
Mr. Doerflinger—Oh, yes, I break it, Miss Rosie.
Can one wit crab claw philopena eat?
Miss Rosie—Oh, yes! If you choose. But I will be
sure to catch you. You know I alvays do.
Mr. Doerflinger—Yes, I know.
Fritz (his mouth full of food)—Sings:
“I dink of all dou art to me,
I tream of wot dou canst not be,
Mine life is cursed wit toughts of dee,
For effer and for effer!”