The
greatest excitement prevailed in the quiet old town and Paul was the
recipient of many honors and presents. Several poems were dedicated
to him, good, bad and indifferent. One very persistent poet, whose
knowledge of English was rather limited, bored him considerably. He
got so inflated over Paul's feigned praise, who had tried this ruse to
get rid of him, that he had his poem put in a German paper and
printed in English at his own expense. It was as follows:
Hall my boy! coming to us with a ton full of reason, Bringing that, what
now is most of season: The best of these we did meet since years In a
period of apprehensions and fears.
You are, no doubt of those good hearted fellows, Who like to lead the
men through friendly meadows; God bless always your noble, humane aim,
And give to it the success you do claim.
The people by his loud acclamation, May prove to you that it feels no
temptation To cut the throats, to break the necks around And make a
grave of all European ground.
It is a sort of cry that's rising, To prove that there are men enough
despising Armstrong and Krupp etcetera With Dyrose, Snyder, Mauser, yea.
Are you returned to Uncle Sam's cottage, Then make aware your countrymen
of every age: Your finding the German people sorry for human life, But
not for scorn and war and strife.
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