Breitmanns Last Ballads - The Magic Shoes

It was stiller, dimmer twilight     amber toornin into gold,     Like young maidens hairs get yellow     und more dark as dey crow old;     Und dere shtood a high ruine     vhere de Donau rooshed along,     All lofely, yet neclected     like an oldt und silent song.     Out shpoke der Ritter Breitmann,     Ven I hafe not forgot,     Ich kenn an anciendt shtory     of dis inderesdin shpot,     Of the Deutscher Middleolter     vot de Minnesingers sung,     Ven dot olt ruine oben     vas a-bloomin, fair, und yung.     Vonce dere lifed a noble frulein     fery peautiful vas she,     More ash twendy dimes goot lookin     it is in de historie;     Und mit more ash forty quarters     on her woppenshield, dot men     Might beholdt mitout a discount     she vas of de upper ten.     But dough lofely as an angel,     mit eyes of turkos plue,     She vas cruel ash a teufel,     und de vorst man efer knew.     Vonce ven a nople young one     kneeled down to her mit lofe,     She kicket him mit her slipper     und oopset him on de shtove.     Und said, I do refuse you,     as you may plainly see;     Und from dis day henseforvart     mine refuse you shall pe,     Und when I do run afder you     like dogs run afder men,     Den I vill pe your vife, yung man     boot keep avay dill denn!     He lishten to her crimly,     and no single vort he said,     Boot de bitter dings she spoken     poot der teufel in his head;     For she hafe not learned de visdom,     vich is alvays safe and sound,     Dont go to pourin water on a mouse     ven id ist trowned.     Vonce, at de end of autoom,     ven de vind vos bitter cold,     Dis maiden out a-ridin     met a voman poor and old;     Her feets vere bare and pleedin,     and she said, Ah! tont refuse     To gife me, nople lady,     yoosht de vorst of your oldt shoes!     De lady boorst out laughin,     Fool here, or fool me dere,     You give to me a couple,     I gives to you a pair.     Denn she rode avay a-laughin;     de old voman says I wete,     Ill give you shoes, my lady,     dot vill fit your soul and feet!     Dis voman vas a vitch,     an bitter one dere to,     All dot vot she had shpoken     she light enough could do;     De Ritter did not know it,     but he told her of his love,     And how dot shkornful lady     hat oopset him mit de shtove.     Out spoke de grimme witch,     She shall pay dee well to boot,     If yo pring to me de measure     of dat ladys liddle foot.     He got it from her shoemaker,     and gafe id to de vitch,     Denn she gafe it to de damsel     pooty soon as hot as pitch.     Von morn de lofely lady,     on openin her toor,     Found de nicest pair of gaiter boots     she efer saw pefore;     Dey vitted her exoctly     mitouten any doubt     Boot, mein Gott! how she vas shrocken     ven dey gun to valk apout!     Und ash de poots go valkin,     like de buds go mit de stem,     It vollowed dot de lady     had to valk apout in dem.     Dey took her out into de street     dey run her on de road,     Bym-by she saw a man ahead     vot led her vhere she goed.     Vhen he vent valkin longsome     denn longsome vas her pace,     Vhen he roon like a greyhound     she skompered in a race;     He led her oer de moundains     und cross de lonely plain,     Until de evenin shadows,     ven he took her home again.     Denn she dink mit hate and fury     of dis man she used to skoff,     Und den go at de gaiters     boot she couldnt pull dem off,     She vork mit all de servants,     boot tvasent any use,     Und so she hafe to go to bett     a-shleepin in her shoes.     Next mornin off dey shtarted,     apout de broke of day,     Den he led her to a castle     in de woods and far away,     And shpeak to her, My lady     I dink at last you see     Dat de dime has come in earnesdt     vhen youve cot to vollow me!     Oh vat ish female nature?     Oh vat ish mortal pride?     How all dot shtands de firmest     most quickly shlips aside     De cloudts dot oer de moundains     look shkornful at de plain,     Ere long mit shtormy wetter     come toomble down in rain.     So de storm-cloud of Superbia     vhich shweep her soul above,     Vas meltet mit his shternness     and be-turn?d into love,     As his words like donner wetter     croshed ven de lightnin flies,     So downward coom de torrents     of dear trops from her eyes.     Und she gry, Mit shame I own it,     to say de fery least,     I gonfess dat in dis matter     I hafe acted like a peast;     Ven I made of you my refuse,     I dinked it no account,     But now de pack is on my back     it seems a big amount.     But if you vish to ved me,     I vill do vat you require.     He answered, Now youre talkin     dot is yoost vot I tesire,     For I am very willin,     and you do not refuse,     Boot remember vot you bromised     send de vitch a pair of shoes!     She answered, I vill follow     verever you may go,     All ofer hills and falleys,     in sunshine, rain, or schnow,     All over in der Welt, dear,     Ill vander on vith thee,     I do not care how rough de road     or dark de path may be!     Or in de bloomin meadows,     vhere de grass is soft and sweet,     Or in de rocky passes,     vhere de stones are under veet,     Or if I vear de shoes, love,     vitch you hafe given me,     Or if I moost go barefoot,     is all de same to me.     He drew away de gaiters.     She said, As Im rich     I vill fill dem both mit money,     and take dem to de vitch.     Ja wohl, she saw die Hexe,     and takin her aside,     She danked her for de lesson     vot hat dook avay her pride.     On de vay vhen dey vere married,     how vere dey all erstaun     To see a lofely lady     come in mit golden crown,     All in a rosy-silken dress     vot shined as pright as glass,     Said, My dears, I am de vitch     dot fetch dis ding to pass.     You know I look so ogly vonce,     und now am peautiful,     Dot ist de vay dot all dings vork     ven folks pe dutiful.     Ash de lily toorns to vhitey     vot once vas dirty green,     So all ist fair ven virdue     ist runnin de machine.     Dis is de vondrous shtory     vot de Ritter Breitmann told     Besides the rooshin Danube     of de schloss so grey und old,     Vhile a shmokin of his meerschaum;     und till all time pe gone     The rustlin of de vasser     tells de tale for ever on.     Dat is an alt legende,     und yet Tis efer new,     Und to efery von dot hears it     it fits yoost like a shoe.     Und dis de shinin moral     dot in de oyster lies     Some day you may roon after     de dings you vonce despise!