O Countess Gudel of Gudelfeld,
Because you have money the world has knelt.
In your gilded coach and four.
The court levee in store,
You drive to the castle, bright
With many a waxen light.
Up the marble stairs you wind,
Your rustling train behind,
And the gorgeous lackeys standing
In rows upon the landing
Shout: " Madame la Comtesse de Gudelfeld! "

Proudly, your fan in your hand,
You stroll through the chambers grand;
Your bosom swells with pleasure,
Laden with costly treasure
Of diamonds that shine
Mid pearls and Brussels fine.
Oh, the smiles and the curtsies unending,
The becking and bowing and bending!
The Duchess of Pavia meets you,
With " Cara mia " greets you,
The courtiers and squires, advancing,
Invite you to join in the dancing,
And, famed for his wit and his taste,
The Crown Prince cries, " From the waist
How superbly swings the Gudelfeld! "

But if, poor thing, you lost your gold,
The world would turn a shoulder cold;
The lackeys in sheer disdain
Would spit upon your train,
And insults take the place
Of bowing and courtly grace,
The " Cara mia " be " Hence! "
And the prince, with disgust intense,
Cry, " Of garlic smells the Gudelfeld! "