I haf von fonny leedle poy,
Dot gomes shust to mine knee,
Der queerest schap, der createst rogue
As effer you did see.
He runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings
In all barts of der house,
But vat of dot; he vos mine son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.

He gets der measles, und der mumps,
Und everydings dots oudt;
He shphills mine glass of lager beer,
Poots schnuff indo mein kraut;
He shtuffs mine pipe mit Limburg scheese,
Dot vas der roughest chouse,
I'd dake dot from no oder poy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.

He dakes mine milk-ban for a drum
Und cuts mine cane in dwo
To make de schticks to peat it mit;
I tells you dot vas drue.
I dinks mine heart vas schplit abart,
He kicks oop sooch a touse;
But nefer mindt, der poys vas few
Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.

He ashks me questions sooch as dese:
"Who baint mine nose so red?"
"Who vas id cuts dot schmooth blace oudt
Vrom der hair upon mein hed?"
Und "Vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp?"
Vene'er der glim I douse.
How gan I all dose dings eggsblain
To dot shchall Yawcob Strauss?

I somedimes dink I schall go vildt
Mit sooch a grazy poy,
Und vish vunce more I good haf rest
Und quiet dimes enzhoy;
But ven he was ashleep in ped,
So quiet as a mouse,
I prays der Lord, "Dake anydinks,
But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss."

By Charles Follen Adams