Hans huckebein slideshow

Hans Huckebein, the unlucky one by Wilhelm Busch

Hans Huckebein’s capture.

Here one sees Fritz, the cheerful boy, Next to Huckebein, the young raven.

And Fritz, like all boys, Would like to have a raven.

He slides along the branch, The bird distrusts him very much.

Bang! Fritz cunningly uses his cap To make a bird trap.

He almost had him! But alas!

The branch breaks with a loud noise.

Fritz sits in black berries, The black bird is in his cap.

The boy Fritz is covered with black, The raven is afraid and hops away.

The black bird is caught in the cap; He hangs in the inner lining.

“Now I have you, Hans Huckebein!

Aunt Lotte will be so pleased!”

The aunt comes from her door; “Oh!” she says, “what a good animal!”

Scarcely has the word left his mouth, “Snap!� he has her finger.

“Ach!” she shouts, “this is not good!”

Because he has hurt me!!”

Hans Huckebein’s Misdeeds.

For Aunt Lotte there is nothing more beautiful Than blueberries.

But Huckebein does not squander The beautiful gift of nature.

Aunt approaches, full of anger and fright; Hans Huckebein leaves the dish.

And quickly he walks along, flying as out of fright, Over the laundry, freshly ironed.

Alas! He comes to the plate cupboard, The plates roll quickly away.

The basket falls, too, in which the eggs were— Oh, my goodness, they are so expensive!

Ach! Now the pitcher falls. The good beer pours into the boots here.

And onto Aunt’s left foot water from the pail pours out.

She holds the fork in her hand, And then Fritz comes along running.

Alas! There they lie. –The point of the fork Goes through the Fritzens ear.

This will be the end of the raven, At least one might think so, but rather not!

Then—snap!—He grabs aunt’s ear; And again the pest has triumphed!

The bad ending.

But now an accident is approaching, For the drink here is a liqueur.

It smells so sweet,--Hans Huckebein Happily dips his beak into it.

He lets the first swallow run down with most pleasurable thoughts.

Not bad! And he dips again with his beak Into the bottom of the glass.

He raises the glass and slurps the rest, Because he does not want to leave anything.

Oh, oh, it now feels so wonderful, So light hearted and yet so strange.

He scratches with a joyful sound And has to stand on one foot.

The bird, which otherwise flies, Has become an animal that creeps.

But pride comes to the conclusion That it must ruin everything.

He pulls with strong breath and trickery on the aunt’s beautiful knitting.

The table is smooth—the bad one is staggering— The end is close,--look there!

He is dangling from the table!

“Maliciousness was his main joy, Therefore, says the aunt, hang him here!�

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