Rudolf J. Wiemann

Pegleg Jack, the Bad Luck Raven



Seen here are Fritz, alert and chipper,
Plus Pegleg Jack, the raven nipper.
This Fritz, like all small boys, is cravin’
To catch and have a nice pet raven.
Already slides he down the limb,
The wary bird suspicions him.
Woosh! Fritz has slyly doffed his cap
And wields it as a raven trap.
He came so close, but - thanks a bunch! -
The branch breaks off with quite a crunch.
Deep in black berries sits young Fritz,
The capped black bird is having fits.
The boy is spotted in the rear,
The bird hops up and down in fear.
The bird’s new outlook is confining,
Stuck as he is ‘twixt cap and lining.
“Now, Pegleg Jack, you come with me!
How thrilled will Auntie Charlotte be!”
The aunt steps out and greets the child,
“How good a creature of the wild!”
Her voice’s sound still seems to linger
When - zap! - he’s got her by the finger.
“Ah!” - cries she - “it is not so good,
Because it hurt me when it could!!”
Here in the pot’s concealing cave
Lurks Pegleg Jack, the scurvy knave.
The bone which Spitz, the dog, did mooch,
Is now gone after by the pooch.
They croak and growl and tug with might,
One on the left, one on the right.
Already Spitz hopes to prevail,
But Pegleg nips him in the tail.
Uh-oh! He jumps on Spitz and tears
Out of his mane a heap of heirs.
The harried canine, in high dudgeon,
Now turns and plucks the bird curmudgeon.
Meanwhile, the furry cat has got
The bone and dibs on Pegleg’s pot.
And there they sit and stare and stare.
The tomcat’s claws are drawn and bare.
The tomcat swipes, Spitz makes a yowl,
The raven is a gladsome fowl.
He seizes in a clever plot
The cat tail where the pot is shot.
The pot goes ‘round, the tail, howe’er,
Becomes a spiral of despair.
Here cat and dog both run away. -
The biggest scoundrel wins the day!! -

To Auntie Charlotte nothing beats
Those sweet blueberry compote treats.
But Pegleg only makes short shrift
Of Mother Nature’s precious gift.
Aunt Charlotte nears, her mood unkind,
And Pegleg leaves the bowl behind.
He steps, impelled by panic’s wings,
Across her freshly ironed things.
Oh, no! He’s on the plate shelf now.
The plates roll rattling o’er the brow.
There go the eggs - the whole big clutch! -
O dear! and they now cost so much!
Splash! From the falling pitcher shoots
The beer into the empty boots.
O’er Aunt’s left foot, as she steps near,
The bucket’s water gushes clear.
She wields the fork and is not funning,
And Fritz now also comes a-running.
Kerplunk! Both fall. - And right in line
With Fritz’s earlap points the tine.
This is where Jack will pass away,
One thinks - but wrongly, sad to say!
For - zap! - Aunt Charlotte’s nose tweaks he,
And once more scores iniquity.
But with its dangerous allure
Stands now before him her liqueur.
Sweet is the scent, deep is the thrill,
And Pegleg gladly dips his bill
And much enjoys the pleasant tickle
Of his first swallow´s downward trickle.
Not bad! And once again he dips
His bill into the depth and sips.
He lifts the stemware in his quest
To get it all and bibs the rest.
My, my! He feels so curious,
So light and so luxurious.
He croaks with the most joyful caws
And challenges the balance laws.
The bird whose flight defines its feature,
Turns here into a crawling creature.
Sheer cockiness creates delight
In wrecking everything in sight.
He tears with evil inclination
At Auntie’s artful yarn creation.
The desk is slick - the villain tangles -
The end is near - look here! He dangles.
“It’s wickedness he held most dear,”
Says Aunt. “That’s why he’s hanging here!!”

From the German 'Hans Huckebein, der Unglücksrabe'
by Wilhelm Busch.
Translated by Rudolf J. Wiemann, P. E.,
St. Paul, USA



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