Da streiten sich die Leut' herum
Language: German (Deutsch)
Da streiten sich die Leut' herum
Oft um den Wert des Glücks,
Der eine heißt den andern dumm,
Am End' weiß keiner nix.
Da ist der allerarmste Mann
Dem andern viel zu reich:
Das Schicksal setzt den Hobel an
Und hobelt alles Gleich !
Die Jugend will stets mit Gewalt
In allem glücklich sein,
Doch wird man nur ein wenig alt,
Da gibt man sich schon drein.
Oft zankt mein Weib mit mir, o Graus!
Das bringt mich nicht in Wut;
Da klopf ich meinen Hobel aus
Und denk: du brummst mir gut !
Zeigt sich der Tod einst, mit Verlaub,
Und zupft mich: Brüderl kumm !
Da stell ich mich ein wenig taub
Und schau mich gar nicht um.
Doch sagt er: "Lieber Valentin,
Mach keine Umständ, geh!"
So leg ich meinen Hobel hin
Und sag der Welt ade !
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Hermann Beyer , "Vor dem Friedensrichter", op. 14, published 1893 [ TTB trio and piano ], Leipzig, Bosse [sung text not yet checked]
- by Conradin Kreutzer (1780 - 1849), "Hobellied aus dem Verschwender", published 1889 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Ferdinand Raimund, né Ferdinand Jakob Raimann (1790 - 1836), "Hobellied", 1834, from his Zaubermärchen, Der Verschwender [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English [singable] (Walter A. Aue) , copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-02-21
Line count: 24
Word count: 137
The people quarrel to no end
Language: English after the German (Deutsch)
The people quarrel to no end
about what's happiness,
call stupid one another and
keep knowing less and less.
The man in abject poverty
is far too rich for some:
But fate will take its plane and free-
ly level everyone.
The young ones want their luck to last
forever and a time,
but once their early years have passed
they're likely to resign.
My wife - oh dread! - will scold and nag,
but I won't get upset:
some shavings off my plane I snag
and reckon: that's for that.
When Death will call, as well He may,
and say, "Come underground!",
a stone-deaf mule I'm gonna play
that does not turn around.
But when He says, "Dear Valentin,
don't fuss: it's time to die!",
then I'll set down my plane serene
and bid the world good-bye.
About the headline (FAQ)
Translation of title "Hobellied = "The planing song"
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2010-03-26
Line count: 24
Word count: 136
