By the Katzbach, by the Katzbach, ha!
There was a merry dance;
Wild and weird and whirling waltzes skipped
Ye through, ye knaves of France!
For there struck the great bass-viol
An old German man famed,
Marshal Forward, Prince of Wallstadt,
Gebhardt Lebrecht von Blücher named.
Up! The Blücher hath the ball-room
Lighted with the cannon’s glare!
Spread yourselves, ye gay, green carpets,
That the dancing moistens there!
And his fiddle-bow at first he waved
With Goldberg and with Jauer;
Whew! He’s drawn it now full length,
His play a stormy northern shower!
Ha! The dance went briskly onward,
Tingling madness seized them all;
As when howling, mighty tempests
On the arms of windmills fall.
But the old man wants it cheery,
Wants a pleasant dancing chime;
And with gun-stocks clearly, loudly,
Beats the old Teutonic time.
Say, who, standing by the old man,
Strikes so hard the kettle-drum,
And, with crushing strength of arm,
Down lets the thundering hammer come?
Gneisenau, the gallant champion:
Alemannia’s envious foes
Smites the mighty pair, her living double-eagle,