There are people that ship off far gruesomer figures
In sermons, in art, and in literature,
Yet have to stay out in the cold
Peer.
Ah, but then,
Do you know—I once went and set up as a prophet!
The Lean One.
In foreign parts? Humbug! Why most people's Sehen
Ins Blaue[1] ends in the casting-ladle.
If you've no more than that to rely upon,
With the best of good will, I can't possibly house you.
Peer.
But hear this: In a shipwreck—I clung to a boat's keel,—
And it's written: A drowning man grasps at a straw,—
Furthermore it is written: You're nearest yourself,—
So I half-way divested a cook of his life.
The Lean One.
It were all one to me if a kitchen-maid
You had half-way divested of something else.
What sort of stuff is this half-way jargon,
Saving your presence? Who, think you, would care
To throw away dearly-bought fuel, in times
Like these, on such spiritless rubbish as this?
There now, don't be enraged; 'twas your sins that I scoffed at;
- ↑ So in original.
