Ach, du lieber Augustin

Oh, you darling Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
oh, you darling Augustin,
everything is gone!
The gold is gone, the girl is gone,
everything gone, Augustin!
Oh, you darling Augustin, everything is gone!

Coat is gone, cane is gone,
Augustin lies in the filth!

Every day was a festival,
now we have the plague!
Only a corpse-party! Everything is gone!
Lay yourself down in the grave!

Yes and even the wealthy Vienna
is as poor as Augustin,
sighs with him in the same mood, "Everything is gone!"
Lay me in the grave with you, O my heart's darling Vienna!
O, you darling Augustin, everything is gone!

Many people know this song, but the last verse above is not as well known. Apparently it comes from the desperate year 1683, when it was generally believed that Austria would fall to the Ottoman Turks besieging Vienna. According to legend, the Turks were secretly tunneling under the walls in the small hours of the night when the bakers, who had to get up that early to bake their bread, heard and reported the suspicious sounds. The attack was prevented, the Turks were defeated, and the bakers began to make crescent-shaped pastries to celebrate the victory over the crescent flag of the Ottoman Empire. These were the first croisssants, and they went very well with the coffee discovered in the abandoned Turkish camp. This is the reason that Vienna boasted the first cafés in Europe.

Tradition holds that Augustin was a street singer and piper in Vienna, who in the Plague Year 1679 fell into an open grave of plague victims but did not get the disease. He died in 1685 and there is a fountain dedicated to him in Vienna.

I don't know if any of it is true, but the song does have a melancholy air.

You can hear it here or here.

Ach, du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!
Geld ist weg, Mädl ist weg,
alles weg, Augustin!
Ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!

Ach, du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!
Rock ist weg, Stock ist weg,
Augustin liegt in Dreck!
Ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!

Ach, du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!
Jeden Tag war ein Fest, 
jetzt haben wir die Pest!
Nur ein grosses Leichenfest! Alles ist hin!

Ach, du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!
Leg' nur ins Grab dich hin!
Ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!

Ach, du lieber Augustin, Augustin, Augustin,
ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!
Ja und selbst das reiche Wien
arm ist's wie Augustin,
seufzt mit ihm gleichen Sinn, "Alles ist hin!"
Ach, du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin!

Comments

[Cam Wilson]

My father used to sing this. His grandfather was German. He also sang, "Ist das nicht ein Schnitzel bahm?" & had the words printed on a piece of folded cardboard with drawings of a pig and other things.