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Ach Gott, min lewes, lewes Mutting, Wat helpen mi de hubschen Schoh! Kann danzen nich, un kann nich spinnen. Denn alle mine teigen Finger, De dohn mi so weh, De dohn mi so weh! Spinn doch, spinn doch, min lutt, lewes Dochting, Ick schenk Di ock'n schon Stuck Geld.
Well, Christian, now sing us a Low-German song." "I know but one song," said Christian, hesitatingly. "It is the spinning-song which my Frederica sang to me in the spinning-room." "Well, sing your spinning-song," said Blucher, looking at his pipe, which was going out. Christian cleared his throat, and sang: Spinn doch, spinn doch, min lutt lewes Dochting, Ick schenk Di ock'n poor hubsche Schoh!
No one was with him but Christian Hennemann, who sang in a loud voice, "Spinn doch, spinn doch, mihn lutt lewes Dochting!" Napoleon passed seven days of indescribable mental anguish at Fontainebleau. Adversity had befallen him, but he bore it with the semblance of calmness, uttering no complaint.
Ach Gott, min lewes, lewes Mutting, Ick wull, ick wihr man ut de Welt, Kann danzen nich, un kann nich spinnen Denn alle mine teigen Finger, De dohn mi so weh, De dohn mi so weh! Spinn doch, spinn doch, min lutt, lewes Dochting. Ick schenk Di ock'n bubschen Mann! Ach ja, min lewes, lewes Mutting, Schenk min lewsten, besten Mann.
Erlich to himself for half-an-hour. When she talked to him she taught him so much about life. He loved to hear her sing sentimental German songs as she worked; "Spinn, spinn, du Tochter mein." He didn't know why, but he simply adored it!
All the old women had peaked ats, and crooked cains, and chince gowns tucked into the pockits of their quiltid petticoats; they sat in pictarask porches, pretendin to spinn, while the lads and lassis of the villidges danst under the hellums. O, tis a noble sight to whitniss that of an appy pheasantry!
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