Gedicht
| Descht e Lebtag, descht e Gspaß älles ist maschugger! A’de Feaster, uf dr Gaß wuselets vor Gucker. Auf, ihr Leut, ond d Fahne’ raus: D Bürgerwach, d Bürgerwach, d Bürgerwach ruckt aus ! Iatz kommet se noh glei oms Eck, älls pfupferet uf de Stroße’, dr Polezei laicht d Buaba’ weg ond iatz – iatz haöt ma’s Blose’: Do send se schao’, davoanadraus dr Tambor mit seim Stecke’: r streckt en nuf ond schwenkt en nom – r zwirbelet dean Stecke# rom, ma’ kriagt en ganze’ Schrecke’. Sechs Trommler kommet hennedrei’, dia hauet s Trommelfell schier nei’ ond gucket et kromm nom. Des schetteret ond wetteret ond tuat oam en de Aohre’ waih – rompede – bombete – bom ! Dernoh lupfts d Leut schier vo’ de Plätz : mit raote Büsch ond raote Lätz ond puterraote Gsichter konnt d Musek vo’ dr Bürgrewach ond macht en donderschlächtige’ Krach mit ihre Messingtrichter. Äll hondert Schritt macht oar a Paus ond dreht d Trompet em Bode’ zue, noh lauft am Mondstück d Spucke raus ond tropfnet em uf d Schuah. Ond daer, mo selle Trommel schlait, dear hot de –n-ärgste’ Schlauch: ma’ woaßt et, wa-n-r schwerer trait, die Trommel oder sein Bauch. | Uf oamol geits e Mordsgetruck ond älles schreit: iatz konnt r, guck: dr Hauptma’; bolzegrad; s ist oa’ Gefonkel, oa’ Gelitz vom Helm bis ra zom Stiefelspitz – e Muster vo’me’ Soldat ! Wia dear sein blanke’ Sarraß schwenkt ond wie-nr schiergär d Füaß verrenkt ond nemme woaß, was hist ond hott, ond wa-n-r uf sei’ schöne Montur eest für en Krattel hot – do hoaßts ao: Herr, wa be-ne! Dear stönd, des sieht ma’-n-aohne Brill, am liabste’ vor se selber still. Dehennedrei’ schloapft oaner d Fah’, r ka’s schier et verschnaufe’.... Sell woaß e gwiß, dear stellt sein Ma’ nochher beim Freibiersaufe’ ! Ond noh marschieret se deher em Stechschritt ond mit alte Gwehr; aus dene hot mei’ Ähne schoa’ Anno Tubak gschosse’. Se seahnet äll enander gleich mit Schnautzbärt, ihre Bäuch ond ihre groaße Bosse’. So dappet se verbei ond gucket drei’ wia bsesse’, als hett e jeder heut schoa’ drei Franzose’ nüchtern gfresse’. Ganz zletzte’ zottlet noh oar mit, dean schlaucht e jeder Meter, r knappet ond hot falsche’ Tritt – des ist dr Sanitäter..... Aus ist d Kirbe, leer ist d Gaß, d Weibsleut gehnd a’s Koche’, ond em „Engel“ wuud e’ Faß Doppelbock a’ gstoche’..... Gehnd iatz hoam, ihr jonge Buuscht, d Bürgerwach, d Bürgrewach, d Bürgerwach hot Duuscht! |
| What a day and what a lark! The town’s gone off its rockers! At the windows, in the streets, It’s teeming with onlookers! So it’s: Up, my lads, hang out your flags! Let all the people shout! The Civic Guard, The Civic Guard, The Civic Guard is turning out Now they’re coming round the block The people pour out on the street, The p’liecemen shoo the kids away, And now we hear the music’s beat! They’re here at last! And first of all Drum Major comes, complete with staff And oh! What tricks he can perform! He makes us have to hold our breath! He thrusts and twirls his staff around, And frightens us to death! Six drummers follows him now too, Staring, of course, just straight ahead, And trying to burst the drumskins through. With crash and bang to wake the dead. They deafen you and hurt your ears, With their Rumpity-Bumpity-Bum! Man! But the main part’s still to come! With bright red plumes and bright red sash, And turkey-bright red faces, Come the musicians of the Guard, Making a mighty thunderous clash With brazen concatenation ….. Then every hundred yards, a player stops, And turns his heavy trumpet upside down, To let a mass of spittle run away And spatter on his shoes a hundred drops. The man who lugs that big, big drum. Who also has the biggest paunch, Cannot decide which one weighs most, The drum, or his big tum! Then suddenly there comes a press, And al cry out: He’s coming, look! The Captain, ram-rod straight Is all one sparkle, all one gleam, A veritable soldier’s dream, From helmet to his feet. How he can swing that naked sword! It looks as though he’s hurt his foot, | But he, the Captain of the Guard, Knows well, he only struck his boot! And oh! How proud the Captain is Of his new uniform so smart. He thinks “Lord what a man am I” We plainly see he’d much prefer Just to stand there and show his art! And now behind the Captain, comes The man who’s carrying the flag, A-puffing an a-blowing. He knows that at the coming free booze-up He’ll make good showing! Now after these comes marching on, In goose-step, carrying ancient guns Such as my grandsires used in days long gone, A group of men who all look just alike, With big moustache and belly and helmet spike. They goose-step past, all staring straight ahead As if possessed; as if each one, unbeaten, Already had, today, on empty stomach, Three Frenchmen eaten! And now right at the last, there comes Dragging his footsteps every centimeter, Nattering and completely out of step: The old Red Cross First-Aider! The party’s over, the streets are clear. The woman return to kitchen sinks. And at the “Engel”, a cask of Extra beer Winks……. Now you lot can go home! For first, The Civic Guard, The Civic Guard, The Civic Guard has got a thirst! (Aus dem Schwäbischen ins Englische übertragen von Dr.Kenneth Warne) |