Leedle Yawcob Strauss

Charles Follen Adams (1842–1918)

I HAF von funny leedle poy,

Vot gomes schust to mine knee;

Der queerest chap, der createst rogue,

As efer you dit see.

He runs und schumps und schmashes dings

In all barts off der house;

But vot off dot? he vas mine son,

Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.

He get der measles und der mumbs,

Und efferyding dot ’s oudt;

He sbills mine glass off lager-bier,

Poots snoof indo mine kraut;

He fills mine pipe mit Limberg cheese—

Dot vas der roughest chouse;

I ’d take dot from no oder poy

But little Yawcob Strauss.

He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum

Und cuts mine cane in two

To make der schticks to beat it mit—

Mine cracious! dot vas drue.

I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart,

He kicks oup sooch a touse;

But neffer mind—der poys vas few

Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.

He ask me questions sooch as dose:

Who baints mine nose so red?

Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt

Vrom der hair upon mine hed?

Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp

Vene’er der glim I douse;

How gan I all dose dings eggsblain

To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?

I somedimes dink I shall go vild

Mit sooch a grazy poy,

Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest,

Und beaceful dimes enshoy;

But ven he vas ashleep in ped,

So guiet as a mouse,

I brays der Lord, “Dake anydings,

But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”