Ye Tourists and Travellers, bound to the Rhine,
Provided with passport, that requisite docket,
First listen to one little whisper of mine—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
Don’t wash or be shaved—go like hairy wild men,
Play dominoes, smoke, wear a cap, and smock-frock it,
But if you speak English, or look it, why then—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
You’ll sleep at great inns, in the smallest of beds,
Find charges as apt to mount up as a rocket,
With thirty per cent. as a tax on your heads,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
You’ll see old Cologne,—not the sweetest of towns,—
Wherever you follow your nose you will shock it;
And you’ll pay your three dollars to look at three crowns,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
You’ll count seven Mountains, and see Roland’s Eck,
Hear legends veracious as any by Crockett;
But oh! to the tone of romance what a check,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
Old Castles you’ll see on the vine-covered hill,—
Fine ruins to rivet the eye in its socket—
Once haunts of Baronial Banditti, and still—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
You’ll stop at Coblenz, with its beautiful views,
But make no long stay with your money to stock it,
Where Jews are all Germans, and Germans all Jews,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!—
A Fortress you’ll see, which, as people report,
Can never be captured, save famine should block it—
Ascend Ehrenbreitstein—but that’s not their forte,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
You’ll see an old man who’ll let off an old gun,
And Lurley, with her hurly-burly, will mock it;
But think that the words of the echo thus run,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
You’ll gaze on the Rheingau, the soil of the Vine!
Of course you will freely Moselle it and Hock it—
P’raps purchase some pieces of Humbugheim wine—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
Perchance you will take a frisk off to the Baths—
Where some to their heads hold a pistol and cock it;
But still mind the warning, wherever your paths—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
And Friendships you’ll swear, most eternal of pacts,
Change rings, and give hair to be put in a locket;
But still, in the most sentimental of acts—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!
In short, if you visit that stream or its shore,
Still keep at your elbow one caution to knock it,
And where Schinderhannes was Robber of yore,—
Take care of your pocket!—take care of your pocket!