THE BATTALION.
17
Mrs. Roseng-arten—Dat boy is so wit his fun burrsting-!
Miss Rosie-Oh motter, vy can’t you him hush up?
So noisy he is!
Mr. Doerfling-er—Fritz, mine young- frent, if you
couldt sing, you might sing. But it ees not broper boetry
at table hoylend, to outspeak.
Mr. Rosengarten—Der Henker! All de people will
tink he’s tronk! And de beer has not efen come yet, moch
less any bran twine!
Fritz—(Bursts out again.)
“Mine heart is full of grief and woe,
I see dy face wairair I go;
I would, alas! it were not so,
For effer and for effer!”
Mr. Rosengarten—I know not wot your heart is full
of, Tropf! But your head is full of folly, and your mout’
is too full of feesh for any bropper talking. Bunch his
head, Maurice! If he were gloser to me, I would bunch
it fine!
Mr. Doerflinger—Your fadder say, bunch your head,
Fritz. So 1 bunch it! (proceeds to punch Fritz’ head
which kind deed Fritz returns with interest.)
Mrs. Rosengarten—Maurice you let Fritz alone! Fritz
is he hurt your head?
Miss Rosie—Oh, mine moother, Fritz he haf hurt
Maurice too. Dey are all de two on one ladder. You can
not bush down' de one witout you bush down de udder xoo.
Mr. Rosengarten—Dat is a goot pheelosophee. But
who dese are? A barty, a big barty comes dis way in!