It harms me not a mite, A wooden stump will make all right; And when it is no longer good, Some spital knave shall get the wood.
But if a ball my bosom strikes, On some wide field I lie, They'll take me off upon their pikes,-- A grave is always nigh; Pumerlein Pum,--the drums shall say Better than any priest,--Good day!
[Footnote 11: Who besings himself thus, in a song from the Solferino campaign:--
"Quand l'zouzou, coiffé de son fez, A par hasard queuqu' goutt' sous l'nez, L'tremblement s'met dans la cambuse; Mais s'il faut se flanquer des coups, Il sait rendre atouts pour atouts, Et gare dessous, C'est l'zouzou qui s'amuse! Des coups, des coups, des coups, C'est l'zouzou qui s'amuse."]
There is a very characteristic piece, without date or name of the writer, but which, to judge from the German, was written after the time of Luther. Nothing could better express the feeling of a people who have been saved by martial and religious enthusiasm, and brought through all the perils of history. It is the production of some Meistersinger, who introduced it into a History of Henry the Fowler, (fought the Huns, 919-935,) that was written by him in the form of a comedy, and divided into acts. He brings in a minstrel who sings the song before battle. The last verse, with adapted metre and music, is now a soldier's song.
Many a righteous cause on earth To many a battle growing, Of music God has thought them worth, A gift of His bestowing. It came through Jubal into life; For Lamech's son inventing The double sounds of drum and fife, They both became consenting. For music good Wakes manly mood, Intrepid goes Against our foes. Calls stoutly, "On! Fall on! fall on! Clear field and street Of hostile feet, Shoot, thrust them through, and cleave, Not one against you leave!"
Elias prophecy would make In thirsty Israel's passion: "To me a minstrel bring," he spake, "Who plays in David's fashion." Soon came on him Jehovah's hand, In words of help undoubted,-- Great waters flowed the rainless land, The foe was also routed.
Drom, Druri, Drom, Pom, Pom, Pom, Pom, Drumming and fifing good Make hero-mood; Prophets upspring, Poets, too, sing; Music is life To peace and strife,-- And men have ever heeded What chief by them is needed.