The Good Old Landlord

Here, in the lowland, where you travel far away,
Before you reach the hills; here, on the Alfold's
plain,
Contented now I dwell, my heart is glad and gay,
Because, while roaming round, I joy and pleasures
gain.
My home is in the quiet village public-house;
But seldom sounds therein the noise of wild carouse.
A hearty, good old man is landlord of the place.
Grant unto him, my God, the bliss of happy days.
My room is neat and clean, therefor I do not pay:
Ne'er have I been as here, cared for so tenderly!
My meals are timely served though others be away,
But. if I should be late, they all will wait for me.
One thing I do not like, the master of the house
Quarels once in a while with his good-hearted
spouse.
But what of that? Soon kindness reillumes his face.
Grant unto him, my God, the bliss of happy days.
Sometimes, to pass the time, we former days -recall,
Which were for him, by far, the happiest and the
best.
He owed his house and farm, had plentiful of all,
He knew not e'en how many cattle he possessed.
Knaves borrowed all his gold and fraudulently kept;
The Danube's stormy floods once o'er his homestead
swept,
And thus they grew so poor, the landlord and his
race.
Grant unto him, my God, the bliss of happy days.
For him the sun, of life is now about to set,
And aged men may wish to have at last some rest.
Alas, misfortune has, I notice with regret,
Left him oppressed with care, with sorrow filled
his breast;
All day he works, the Sunday e'en is not his own;
Late he retires te bed, and rises with the dawn.
Filled with compassion, him I tenderly embrace.
Grant unto him, my God, the bliss of happy days.
I often beg of him to be of better cheer,
Say better times will come, ending his misery;
"Ay, ay, it will be so." he says "my end is near,
And, when the grave receives me, I shall happy
be."
This answer fills my heart with sorrow and with
grief;
Falling upon his breast, I find in tears relief.
My dear old father is the landlord of this place,
Grant unto him, my God, the bliss of happy days.