A poem by Friedrich Schiller

Hark, neighbor, for one moment stay!
Herr Doctor Scalpel, so they say,
Has got off safe and sound;
At Paris I your uncle found
Fast to a horse's crupper bound,
Yet Scalpel made a king his prey.

Oh, dear me, no! A real misnomer!
The fact is, he has his diploma;
The other one has not.

Eh? What? Has a diploma?
In Suabia may such things be got?

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