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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With big moustache and belly and
helmet spike.

They goose-step past, all staring
straight ahead

As if possessed; as if each one,

Already had, today, on empty

Three Frenchmen eaten!
And now right at the last, there

Dragging his footsteps every
Nattering and completely out of

The old Red Cross First-Aider!

The party’s over, the streets are

The woman return to kitchen sinks.
And at the “Engel”, a cask of Extra


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)