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Wo der Weiser steht an der Straß' Wachst schönes Mariengras. Meiner Mutter ist es allda geschehen, Ist wandernd und bettelnd kommen in Wehen, Und als sie mich hat geboren, Sie hat das Leben verloren Wo der Weiser steht an der Straß'. Zum Bettelvogt ward ich gebracht; Mein Magen der knurrte bei Tag und Nacht Und als ich erst groß geworden, ich trat in den fahrenden Orden. An die Seite hing ich den Bettelsack Und schleppte den Kasten huckepack Was ward ich ein junger Leiermann Und spielte vor jeder Tür'! Wo der Weiser steht an der Straß'. Es ging ein Mädel durch's Gras, Sie schürzte die Röcke und sprang über'n Graben; Ich dachte: die möcht' ich zur Liebsten haben Und tat ich ihr schön und sprach ihr vom Frei'n. Sie zeigte die Zähne und sagte nicht nein. Da haben wir Hochzeit gehalten, Wo der Weiser steht an der Straß'. O weh! Was bringt mir mein Spiel! Zum Leben zu wenig, zum Sterben zu viel! Sechs Tage von sieben sind Fastenzeit, Meine Lieder kennen sie weit und breit. Mein Kittel vergraut, mein Kasten verstimmt, Möcht' sehn, was das für ein Ende nimmt. Mit krummen Rücken von Haus zu Haus, Am besten, ich schlafe mir alles aus, Wo der Weiser steht an der Straß'.
Text Authorship:
- by Karl Busse (1872 - 1918) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Hans Erich Pfitzner (1869 - 1949), "Leierkastenmann", op. 15 no. 1 (1904) [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Linda Godry) , "The organ grinder", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: John Versmoren
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 32
Word count: 211
Where the signpost is at the street Rich [St. Mary's] grass is growing. There my mother's time came while leading a homeless beggar's life. While giving me my life She lost hers Where the signpost is at the street. To the poorhouse I was brought where my stomach rumbled day and night until I was old enough to join the traveling people. By my side I carried a bag and heaved the organ on my shoulder. So I was a young organ grinder Playing at everybody's door. Where the signpost is at the street. There a maiden came across the grass, gathered up her skirts and jumped the ditches; She, I thought, must be my lover. So I charmed her and hinted at marriage, She smiled and didn't say no. So we became one where the signpost is at the street. Alas, my music earns just small coins! Not enough to live, too much to die! Six days out of seven it's fasting, my songs are too well known near and far. My smock is faded, my organ out of tune. I wonder where I am heading to, bowed down with age from house to house. I'd better try and get a rest where the signpost is at the street.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2005 by Linda Godry, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Karl Busse (1872 - 1918)
This text was added to the website: 2005-03-15
Line count: 32
Word count: 210