Württemberg from   Ludwig Uhland

​

But what can you miss
  My dear fatherland?
  One hears stories from afar
  From your state of blessing.

​

  They say: you are a garden,
  you are a paradise;
  what more can you expect
  When they call you blessed?

​

  A word that was inherited
  Said that gentleman:
  If you would like to spoil
  That you can't.

​

  And isn't it poured out
  Your fruit field like a sea?
  Doesn't the must flow
  From a thousand hills?

​

  And don't you swarm with fish
  In every stream and pond?
  Is not your forest bush
  All too rich in game?

​

  Do not drive the herd of wool
  on your wide alb?
  And don't you feed horses
  And cattle everywhere?

​

  Don't you hear praise from afar
  Solid wood of the Black Forest?
  Don't you have salt and iron
  And even a grain of gold?

​

  And are not your wives
  So domestic, pious and faithful?
  Blooms in your nooks
  Isn't Weinsberg forever new?

​

  And are not your men
  Industrious, honest, simple?
  The peace works connoisseur,
  And brave when you fight?

​

  You land of grain and wine,
  you blessed generation,
  What's wrong with you? – All and One:
  The old good law

Ludwig Uhland