Gigerlette

Fräulein Gigerlette

Asked me round last night.

When shall I forget her

In that gown of white?

Who could ask a better,

Fairer sight to see?

If a monk had met her,

Met my Gigerlette,

He’d have burned like me.

Crimson was the parlour

Where her hand met mine,

Shimmering with colour

In the candle-shine.

She was full of laughter,

Fanciful and free.

How she roused my ardour!

Wine-red was her parlour,

Blossom white was she.

Gaily charioteering

In love’s coach and pair,

Soon we were careering

Off, the Lord knows where.

Just when I was fearing

We might lose control,

Cupid started steering,

Curbed our mad careering,

Helped us reach our goal.