There sat one day in quiet,
       &nbsp By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
       &nbsp And drank the precious wine.

The landlord's daughter filled their cups,
       &nbsp Around the rustic board
Then sat they all so calm and still,
       &nbsp And spake not one rude word.

But, when the maid departed,
       &nbsp A Swabian raised his hand,
And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
       &nbsp "Long live the Swabian land!

"The greatest kingdom upon earth
       &nbsp Cannot with that compare
With all the stout and hardy men
       &nbsp And the nut-brown maidens there.

"Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing,
       &nbsp And dashed his heard with wine;
"I had rather live in Laplaud,
       &nbsp Than that Swabian land of thine!

"The goodliest land on all this earth,
       &nbsp It is the Saxon land
There have I as many maidens
       &nbsp As fingers on this hand!"
"Hold your tongues! both Swabian
       &nbsp       &nbsp and Saxon!"
       &nbsp A bold Bohemian cries;
"If there's a heaven upon this earth,
       &nbsp In Bohemia it lies.

"There the tailor blows the flute,
       &nbsp And the cobbler blows the horn,
And the miner blows the bugle,
       &nbsp Over mountain gorge and bourn."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And then the landlord's daughter
       &nbsp Up to heaven raised her hand,
And said, "Ye may no more contend,—
       &nbsp There lies the happiest land!"