There is a whole school of fairly morbid Viennese songs, concerned with death, dying love, etc. It continues even today with some Austrian 'Kabarett' artists (stand-up comedian is not the right translation). Ferdinand Raimund embodies this line particularly well in his fusion of the sad words with his haunting melodies. There are two pieces from him in this collection: Brüderlein fein and Das Hobellied. My memory of Brüderlein fein is of a recording by a boy soprano, very simply sung. The interesting question, regarding the words, is of course: who is the narrator? Whose little brother? The piece is originally published without any repeats to accommodate the words. I condensed it with repeats, and entered the words as a footnote. I threw the following attempt at a translation in five minutes together; it should just give an impression for the English speaking reader -although I think it's actually singable. L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, do not be so angry with me! L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, do not angry be! Though the sun now shines so bright, soon it will be dark with no light. L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, do not angry be! L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, tell me what you're thinking of? L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, tell me what you think? Money does a lot in this world, youth can not be bought with it, though. L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, we must part now. L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, tenderly we shall now part. L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, tenderly we part. Reminisce some times of me rage not against the luck of the young! L'il brother of mine, l'il brother of mine, adieu, give me your hand! Enjoy! Michael Bednarek http://www.geocities.com/mcmbednarek/