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Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889

Yawcob Strauss

By Charles Follen Adams (1842–1918)

[Born in Dorchester, Mass., 1842. Died in Roxbury, Mass., 1918. Leedle Yawcob Strauss, and Other Poems. 1878.]

I HAF von funny leedle poy,

Vot gomes schust to mine knee;

Der queerest schap, 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 eferyding dot’s oudt;

He sbills mine glass off lager bier,

Poots schnuff indo mine kraut.

He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese,—

Dot vas der roughest chouse:

I’d dake dot vrom no oder poy

But leedle Yawcob Strauss.

He dakes der milk-ban for a dhrum,

Und cuts mine cane in dwo,

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 nefer mind; der poys vas few

Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.

He asks me questions sooch as dese:

Who baints mine nose so red?

Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt

Vrom der hair ubon 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 schall 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 prays der Lord, “Dake anyding,

But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”