Rudolf J. Wiemann
Pious Nelly
First Chapter
Like the wind in weeping willows
Sounds the pious singer’s air
To the carnal peccadilloes
In big cities everywhere.
Oh, the fulsome daily press!
How it shamelessly presents
Every blessed morn, no less,
Folks with more mundane events!
Offenbach is at the Met,
Dances here and concerts there -
Annie, Mary, and Nannette
All already walk on air.
After coffee, off one races
One’s imperfect frame to preen
And in squares and public places
To go strolling and be seen.
How they ogle, how they greet!
Here the gents with fancy airs,
There the ladies with their sweet,
Heav’nly turned-up derrieres.
I won’t speak of beer hall parties
Where the villain loves to be,
Where in league with left-wing hearties
One maligns the Holy See.
I won’t speak of nights symphonic
Where the ardent music fan
Lets his eerily demonic
Opera glasses slowly pan,
Where, while ardor fairly oozes,
One sits dreamily in sets,
Where the lofty choir of muses,
Where Apollo even sweats.
I won’t speak of stage and drama
Whence go late and now all charm
Dear old dad and pretty mama
Home together arm in arm.
Many children are begotten,
But concern is fairly rare,
And the children turn out rotten
When the parents do not care.
“Come, Nell, darling!” said the kind
Guardian. “Come, my dearest child,
To the country where we’ll find
Gentle sheep and lambkins mild.
Aunt and Uncle live there too,
Virtue there and sense reside -
There your kin will welcome you.”
Thus was Nelly countrified.
Second Chapter
“Oh, Nelly!” Uncle Nolte spake,
“I’ll tell you this for your own sake
Straight from the human, Christian heart:
Be wary of the snares of badness,
They offer pleasure at the start
But in the end yield only sadness.”
“Yes!” said he kindly aunt. “‘Tis true!
Thus fared a lot of folks I knew!
That’s why a child should view direction
By elders with extreme affection!
They’ve left all that, thank God, behind
And are toward virtue well inclined!
And now, ‘Good Night!’ It’s late. And - say! -
My little Nelly, pray, dear, pray!”
So Nelly goes and with delight
Spots Uncle’s garment for the night.
Quick, quick, the needle! as she itches
To close up neck and sleeves with stitches.
That done, she’s happy to recline
And covers up and feels just fine.
Soon Uncle comes on up and seems
Quite tired and ready for sweet dreams.
He takes a good-night pinch of snuff,
As he’s accustomed to the stuff.
Now comes the moment to arrange
The daytime/nighttime shirt exchange.
But something somewhere must have caught,
As things won’t work the way they ought.
“This business I just don’t get!”
Says Nolte, now a bit upset.
But getting made won’t put things right.
Just look at that! There goes the light!
His anger rises all the more,
And watch and snuffbox hit the floor.
Kaboff! He tips the night commode
Which makes much noise and spills its load.
Now Auntie comes and stops to stare.
Rripp! Uncle has come up for air.
“Oh, creature, sinful to the core!
Yes, you! Yes, go ahead and snore!”
But Nelly thinks, “No, I will never
Do this again! Not ever, ever!”
Third Chapter
The time goes by, the years progress,
And Nelly wears a grown-up dress.
“Well, have you heard it, Nelly, dear?
Our guest, your cousin Frank, is here,”
Aunt Nolte one fine morn declared
The while the coffee she prepared.
“Now listen! Try to be polite,
And don’t be such a blatherskite,
And don’t be slouching in your chair,
And don’t just stand around and stare.
And one more item: Apropos
That green one which is cut so low -
You’re not to wear the green one, Nell!
I just don’t like it all that well.”
“Hey,” Nelly thinks, “is he still sleeping?”
And stands before the keyhole peeping.
The weary traveler lies still drowsing
Snug in his cozy feather housing.
“Yo yum!” he yawns. “I do surmise,
The time has come for me to rise
And slowly put in operation
The morning process of lavation.”
For one thing, it is customary;
And secondly, it’s salutary;
And thirdly, it removes the dust;
And fourthly, it’s a simple must;
For fifthly, it lends facial charm;
And lastly, it can do no harm!
A happy wanderer mustn’t lack
A laundered shirt to grace his back.
Refreshed and able and progressing,
He keeps on going with the dressing,
Then notes with quiet satisfaction
The outcome of his grooming action.
Now for the pipe - and Nelly’s feet
Move to effect a quick retreat.
They kick the sprinkling can, left standing -
Kerplink, kerplunk! - atop the landing.
Her balance lost, Nell falls and shoots
Toward Nan who comes for Frankie’s boots.
On down slides Nell, on down Nanette;
Aunt Nolte holds the coffee set.
Now it goes ‘Crash!’ and ‘Bang!’ and ‘Whew!’
And Uncle gets his portion too.
Fourth Chapter
Young Frank, a learned college boy,
Soon proves a source of help and joy.
One time he sat up in the night
This lovely little gem to write:
‘As one day the coop I flew
Through the woods to amble,
Came a pretty birdie who
Warbled in the bramble.
Bird, I hear of what you sing!
Right you are, lil critter.
Love is the essential thing!
All else empty twitter.’
He gives it to sweet Nelly, who
Thinks it is marvy through and through.
And Frank is really very cool,
On this account and as a rule.
When wall or closet needs a nail -
Frank gets the hammer without fail.
When one must go into the dank
And lonely cellar - with goes Frank.
When vegetable rows need care
In field or garden - Frank is there.
It’s hard, for instance, on the whole,
To reach the bean high on the pole.
Frank holds the ladder, thus forestalling
The likelihood of Nelly falling.
And when she’s finished up above,
Frank still helps out with tender love.
To make it short, no matter what -
Young Frank is Johnny-on-the-spot.
But most especially is he
Chockfull of fun and deviltry.
Look, through the grass on greenish shanks
Hop-hops a frog! - Now it is Frank’s!
This clammy beast he takes and locks
In Nolte’s prized tobacco box.
As kindly Nolte strives to clinch
His repast with a fragrant pinch -
Flip-flop! - the frog leaps to impose
On Uncle Nolte’s tender nose.
Splash! In the cup it makes a landing
Where some nice coffee was still standing.
Plop! For a bit it’s stuck in utter
Confusion in a lump of butter.
Flip-flump! For still another flap,
It leaps and lands in Auntie’s lap.
Unc Nolte jumps and rings the bell.
“Quick, quick! Nanette!” one hears him yell.
Nanette with tongs and quite in stride
Transports the miscreant outside.
Here, lastly, from her faint emerging,
Is Aunt, her consciousness resurging.
How Nelly laughed when Cousin Frank
Did up and perpetrate this prank.
One thing, though, made her quite upset:
She often saw him near Nanette!
But growing boys you just don’t tell
To shun all kitchen personnel -
And man is sinful on the whole!
How Nell then prays for Frankie’s soul!
The person, though, who still felt jolty
Was the disgruntled Uncle Nolte.
He could well guess just whom to thank
For that confounded snuffbox prank
And noted with appreciation
The end of summertime’s vacation
When Frankie, though unhappily,
Returned to the academy.
Fifth Chapter
“So what, it he gets mad! - Gee-whiz!
Who does this uncle think he is?”
Thus grumbles Nelly, sad to say,
And writes a letter anyway:
‘My Frankie Dear!
I am all yours, so never fear!
How simply groovy was the time,
How beat my heart for joy sublime
When in the pole bean rows - ah, yes! -
A someone kissed a someoneness,
I dare say, heartily and true.
O dear! If Auntie only knew!
My word! How life has here of late
Sunk into such a dreary state!
Thank goodness, Uncle is quite dumb!
Aunt still is just as meddlesome.
And both are holier-than-thou.
Frank, manage to come back somehow
This yearning in my heart to quell!
Yours with 10,000 kisses,
Nell.’
Now sealing wax! - But mercy! Fate
Through Nolte’s angry voice bids, “Wait!”
And Nelly’s pretty nose makes tracks
Through globs of hot and sticky wax.
Sixth Chapter
In the bedroom’s quiet haunt
Uncle sleeps alongside Aunt.
But not everything is swell:
In with hook and line sneaks Nell.
Tug! The cover gets a lift.
Uncle wakens and is miffed.
Tug! Now Auntie also feels
Chilly drafts about her heels.
“Nolte!” she demands. “Come, come!
Cut that out, for it is dumb!”
Both now, after some more grumbling,
Rotate back to back, still mumbling.
Swoosh! The cover pulls away,
And their anger turns to fray.
Auntie’s keys ring loud and louder,
And the uncle takes a powder.
Ouch! How hurts his footsy so!
Hooked and hoisted is his toe.
Nell keeps hauling without stopping,
And the uncle must go hopping.
Aunt is knocking, Nell is blocking -
Oh, the wickedness is shocking!
By and by sweet peace descends
And the bedroom ruckus ends.
But in the morning comes to light
The resolution reached last night,
As darkly Uncle Nolte spake,
“Look, Nelly, it’s for your own sake . . ”
“Dear me!” she cried. “No, I will never
Do this again! Not ever, ever!”
“No, Nell! It will no longer sell!
Go, pack your things! - And so, ‘Fare well!’”
Seventh Chapter
Any young mademoiselle
With good prospects would do well
Not to look too long nor tarry,
But to pick a man and marry.
Firstly, it’s the thing to do;
Secondly, one wants it, too;
Thirdly, one so feels the need
For a male to take the lead,
Since there’re known to be no few
Things of which, though fun to do,
Girls alone would not be knowing,
As, for instance, tavern going.
Often, though one wants him so,
Is the right one slow to show,
And while waiting, one must find
Things which may divert the mind.
For this reason Nelly keeps
Two canaries, Neeps and Peeps,
Which she trains to peck the seed
Offered by her hand as feed. -
Those endearing little tweetums! -
But the kitty’s name is Sweetums.
Once upon a time dropped by
Tomcat Mouser, sleek and sly.
Quickly, with united nerve,
Savage skill and innate verve
They get hold of Neeps and Peeps,
Stretching their dear necks for keeps.
Then this twosome, blithe and able,
Sees what’s on the coffee table.
Sweetums with the velvet touch
Takes the snaps she likes so much.
Mouser, a determined schemer,
Wants to reach what’s in the creamer.
Nelly who, not knowing better,
Had been busy with a letter,
Now appears upon this scandal
Holding sealing wax and candle.
Sweetums barely gets away.
Mouser, though, is made to stay,
For the crock from which he dined
Tightly holds his head confined.
Blindly drops he to the earth.
Crash! The creamer lost its worth.
Now he speeds along the hutch.
Bottles, plates fall at the touch.
Here he jumps, to save himself,
Toward the mantelpiece´s shelf.
Oh! The Venus is debris -
Clickereedom! - of Medici!
Dear! A leap propels him clear
To the crystal chandelier.
Loudly rings its ‘clinkereedingding!’
And there lies that precious thing.
Mouser quickly wants to scat,
But it is too late for that.
Mouser, oh! Nell plans a caper
Using candle, wax, and paper. -
First to roll the paper flush
‘Round the tail’s long, furry brush.
Next to add the wax, well heated,
So’s to keep the paper seated.
Then to hold it to the light
Till the flame looks nice and bright.
Now to let old Mouser go.
Ouw-meeouuww! - this singes so!
Eighth Chapter
If one can have things all one’s way,
One may at times be glad to stay
On mornings that break bleak and cold
A while yet in one’s cozy mold.
One tends to linger there and muse,
“Ah, take a little bonus snooze!”
And ponders to and ponders fro
How this would be if that weren’t so.
Then one gets bored, says, “Fiddlesticks!”
Rolls over on one’s downy ticks,
Gets on one’s feet and so sashays
Into the morning make-up phase.
Good grooming makes a right good case,
But there are things it can‘t replace.
Man is deficient, after all.
The less than perfect lock must fall.
The more so must the arts be praised,
For beauty through the arts is raised.
But comes a time when all this too
Will in the end no longer do.
This morning Nell says casually,
“Shucks, I’ll take Schmock and Company!”
G.I.C. Schmock, in hopes of this,
Is hereby filled with highest bliss,
And wedding bells go ‘ding-dong-ding!’
For Madam Schmock that coming spring.
Ninth Chapter
It was old Heidelberg, the fair,
Which drew the honeymooning pair.
How lovely side-by-side to stroll
Up to the castle on the knoll.
“Oh, look, dear George, at this array
Of rubble, old and in decay!”
“Yes!” says he. “But this awful heat!
Just feel once how sweat, my sweet!”
Old ruins are a lot of fun.
The mighty cask impresses one.
It’s “Really great! My admiration!”
Then gladly contracts transportation
And sees the panorama spin
By quickly back down to the inn,
For chops, asparagus, and roast
Are often also worth a boast.
“Psst! One on ice, my good garçon!
And, oh, garçon, don’t be too long!”
The waiter hears and does obey.
The coattails fly, he darts away.
How delicately rise and caper
Veuve Clicquot’s bubbles in the taper.
Here’s to the Veuve, although unseen!
Nell pages through a magazine.
“Garçon! Pssht! One more would be fine!”
Nell’s watch already points to nine.
The waiter hears and does obey.
The coattails fly, he darts away.
How delicately rise and caper
The widow’s bubbles in the taper.
”Garçon! Pshsht! Hit me once again!”
Nell’s watch already points to ten.
The waiter starts to dart away.
Nell has a candid word to say.
The waiter lights the stairway’s flight.
The gentleman displays delight.
Phitch! - There! He snuffs the candle’s wick.
Plop! There he lies much like a brick.
Tenth Chapter
Many fine ladies whose days are fair,
Wrapped in security and care,
Think, “Bah! What can the hurry be?”
And pay no mind to piety.
How highly Nell must here be praised!
In Nell such thoughts are never raised.
No, no, she’d gladly any day
Walk to her church, though blocks away;
And Jacques with the most meek of faces
Behind his mistress three full paces,
Devoutly carrying her Psalter,
Goes where she goes and does not falter.
But Nelly is not one to show
Concern for just herself. - Oh, no!
A right good person is always glad
To see if a neighbor does something bad,
And strives through frequent admonition
To work for betterment and contrition.
“Why, Shacques! Your pockets often bulge!”
She wonders. “Shacques, do you indulge?”
“Behold! Behold! What do I find!
Oh, Shacques! Keep heaven on your mind!”
These words straight to his conscience went
And made him promise betterment.
But due concern does not suffice
When limited to good advice.
Nell knits those throws which hug the shoulder
And yield such warmth when days get colder
And northern winds will howl and lash.
She also makes the cozy sash,
For this is for the stomach’s pit
On wintry days a real hit.
Especially, though, she deprecates
The indigent people’s dire straits,
And since her doctor did opine
That she should bathe in heated wine -
She does. Oh, what a great event
This is for all the indigent,
Who for their inner restoration
At last, too, get a warm libation.
Eleventh Chapter
To man and woman nothing does elate
Like entering into holy matrimony’s state.
How lovely is it for the just,
Having taken all the steps which one must,
When after the usual span they make good
On everyone’s expectations of parenthood.
But sometimes one has cause to be glum,
Because no offspring wants to come.
Such was apparent after a spell
To a very much saddened Nell.
That was when a man of great piety
Lived near Old St. Peter, i.e., vis-à-vis,
Praised highly alike by woman and maid
For the profundity of his counsel and aid.
(Although, he was ailing a little now.)
“O my daughter!” he said with a worried brow,
“This is a difficult matter for sure.
There remains alone the spiritual cure!
So here is my counsel, my dear, if you will:
Follow the path that leads steeply uphill,
And take the blessed pilgrim tour
To Chosemont de bon secour.
There, of great fame and for all to see,
Has long stood the cradle of fertility,
And whoever commended herself to its care,
And whoever rocked the cradle there,
Soon after such journey was bound to learn
That things were taking as different turn.
A pious young maiden erstwhile met
With such an occurrence to her regret
When she - not fully educated
In all those matters hereto related -
Out of thoughtlessness and childish joy
Rocked the cradle as one would a toy.
Although she did not rock a whole lot,
A little baby is what she got.
A brassy male pilgrim also wandered there.
He touched the cradle on a dare.
Thereupon approximately a few weeks later
It came to pass that the perpetrator,
Who - - But enough of this, my dear!
It is the Vespers bell I hear.
Adieu and may your troubles cease!
Proceed in peace!”
Twelfth Chapter
›From the mountain’s hallowed cap
Greet the chapel and the tap.
›From the valley to the crest
In that spiritually strong
And devoted Christian throng
One feels close to all and blessed;
›From the hearts and from the lips,
›From the soul’s remotest tips,
Warmly breathe on one another
Pilgrim sister, pilgrim brother.
Up in front on dusty tread,
Warm around the heart and head,
Earnest guardian of the good,
Paces the arch brotherhood.
Next proceeds the maiden guild -
Lips that harmony extol,
Bosom with sweet mildness filled,
Hands that hold the parasol.
Ah, how sounds the choir so fair!
Brother Joachim leads in prayer.
Yonder in the sunlight, though,
Nelly, somber-cheerfully,
Walks all by herself - or so -
For her only company,
Sun-transfigured at her flank,
Is the gentle Cousin Frank
Whom of late his old acquaint-
Ances nicknamed ‘Frank the Saint’.
Solemnly they walk toge’er
As a pious pilgrim pair.
Now they’re at the top, thank God!
And with common praise and laud,
And with zeal and probity
Is fulfilled what needs to be.
Now, though, for the tapping station,
Now, though, for its prize libation
Which for many years already
Calmly cautious, gravely steady
Brother Jacob often brewed
In the cloister’s solitude.
Hopeful seem, at ease and glad,
Every pilgrim, lass or lad.
Soon the daylight’s swelter ends,
And the night’s soft cool descends.
Yonder in the moonlight, though,
Nelly, gladsome-cheerfully,
Walks all by herself - or so -
For her only company,
Moon-transfigured at her flank,
Is the saintly Cousin Frank.
Gently they wend home toge’er
As a pious pilgrim pair.
Now the staunch arch brotherhood
And the maiden guild, which could
Not resist a lil postponing,
Finally come down intoning.
Ah, how sounds the choir so fair!
Brother Joachim leads in prayer. -
Look, a cab still rolls along,
Trundling toward the chanting throng.
But the man who holds the rein,
Crass by nature and profane,
Rudely thinking, “Nuts to that!”
Does decline to tip his hat.
Woe, at once is fit to sass
Every pilgrim, lad or lass.
“Git!” The cabby whips his steed,
Hoping to enhance his speed,
But Joachim shoves the whole
Maiden order pennant pole
Through the wheel’s large rearward pair.
Crunch! The hackney stops right there.
By his jacket, by his feet
He is wrested from his seat.
Nanny, keeping him in check,
Prods him often in the neck.
But the irate Adelaide
Goes too far, I am afraid,
For she jabs at quite a clip
With her parasol’s sharp tip
Where is saving circumstance
Are his seasoned leather pants.
Joy now feels about this cad
Every pilgrim, lass or lad.
Yonder fades the chorus fair.
Brother Joachim leads in prayer. -
But the churlish cabby, who
Didn’t care for this to-do
Hastens with a long report
To the somber county court
Which soon cites before its bench
Brother Joachim and every wench.
And the weighty justice speaks:
Brother Joachim gets three weeks,
But the brotherhood and guild
For the damage will be billed.
Oh, how finds this verdict crass
Every pilgrim, lad or lass.
Thirteenth Chapter
Where would we get the babies from
If Master Stork were loath to come?
‘Twas he who brought to Schmocks’ delight
Their own wee pair of twins last night.
Good Cousin Frank with mellow mien
Began and spake, “O happy scene!
What friendly little colleagues, they!
Yes, twofold blessings came your way!
Let twofold then rise apt laudations!
Dear Mr. Schmock, congratulations!”
Eftsoon at noon Schmock comes downstairs,
So really proud and full of airs,
And eagerly sits down to dine
On salad, fish, and vintage wine.
Arrgh-Ouch!! A bone gets stuck askew.
Schmock coughs a lot and turns quite blue.
He coughs and coughs till there are tears
And mouthfuls flying from his ears.
Crash! - There! That ends his earthly calling.
Jacques saves the bottle which was falling.
“Alas!” says Jacques. “It is a pain!
How quickly life goes down the drain!”
Fourteenth Chapter
“Oh, Frank!” cries Nell. “My friend in need!
Oh, Frank! My only friend, indeed!”
“Yes!” Cousin Frank vows soothingly,
“I was, I am and hope to be!
And now, ‘Good Night!’ The clock strikes ten.
God willing, we’ll soon meet again!”
He stops downstairs on his way out.
Look! Kathy’s up yet and about.
This gladdens Frank who, plain to tell,
Still loves his kitchen personnel.
Jacques, sneaking softly after him,
Sees what he’s up to and turns grim,
And in an angry, jealous fit,
He grips the bottle, raises it,
And - Smasheroo! - down to its base
His blow lays bare Frank’s thinking case.
Life’s thread just snapped. He drops and sprawls.
Nell nears the scene. The candle falls.
Fifteenth Chapter
How mankind hies toward perdition!
Nelly, Nelly, show contrition!
And she hastens crushed and quaking
To her closet, badly shaking.
B’gone, you braids, false that you are,
Skin cream tube and ointment jar!
B’gone, you curvy apparatus -
Stayed support of shape and status!
B’gone ‘bove all and caste aside,
Fancy boots of sinful pride,
Vanity’s inane attire -
B’gone and cast into the fire!!
Oh, how lovely are the boots
Of spiritual pursuits!!
Look, there goes, fit to repent,
Nell, the slender penitent!
Sixteenth Chapter
It is a rule which does endure:
Those who have worries, have liqueur.
“No!” Nelly cries. “No! I will never
And never, never, never, never
do this again! Not ever, ever!”
She kneels afar, devout and able.
The bottle stands upon the table.
One needs no desk for supplications.
The bottle waits in silent patience.
The light one’s reading does improve.
The bottle shines and doesn’t move.
One may read more than just a lot.
The bottle is a hymnbook not.
A near friend is not always dear.
O Nelly, stay away in fear!
In blessed nightgown shows the late
Dear aunt in her transfigured state,
And with a pained and ghostly yell,
“Oh, Nell!” she cries. “Oh, Nell! Oh, Nell!”
In vain! Nell feels a need to lean,
And tips the lamp with kerosene.
And slowly, as her whimper rises,
This pious woman carbonizes.
See here her poor remains still smokin’.
What’s left is but a meager token.
Seventeenth Chapter
Brrr! Out-of-doors it’s such a fright!
Storm, lightning, thunder, dark of night!
Already by the house’s flue
Waits one of Beelzebub’s tailed crew.
Nell’s guardian angel seeks to doom
The purports of this ghost of gloom,
But he who wields the two-tined fork
Knows how to trip with jab and torque.
Oh, dear! The liege of virtue fails!
The underworld’s courier prevails.
At once he seizes Nell’s poor soul
And flies with it to hell’s dark hole.
Inside with you! Haha! Hoohoo!
Saint Frank’s already down there too.
The End
When Nolte did receives these news,
He was distressed and got the blues.
But after he had mourned a spell,
He said, “’Twas easy to foretell!
The good, this is most surely true,
Is but the bad one doesn’t do!
My! Am I ever glad to say
That I, thank God, am not that way!!”
From the German
´Die fromme Helene´
by Wilhelm Busch.
Translated by
Rudolf. J. Wiemann, P. E.
St. Paul, USA
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