Poem
| 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) |