ten o’clock
I livet in my own town only sree mons . One Suntay I sit in a coffee-house , ant trinket one pint of Pier , ant fumigated my pipe , ant speaket wis some frients of Politik , of ze Emperor Franz , of Napoleon , of ze war -- ant anypoty might say his opinion . But next to us sits a strange chentleman in a grey Uberrock , who trink coffee , fumigate the pipe , ant says nosing . Ven the night watchman shoutet ten o'clock I taket my hat , paid ze money , and go home . At ze middle of ze night some one knock at ze door . I rise ant says , ` Who is zere ? ' ` Open ! '