Hans and Jacob

A poem from my childhood, which my mother kept repeating at odd moments.  I quote it here to preserve it and share it.

To be read with a Norwegian accent, if you can do it.

We were twins
Me and my brother. 
We look so very much alike
You couldn't tell one from the other. 

One of us was Hans,
The other, Jacob was His name
But whether Hans or Jacob
We both got called the same. 

Now one of us is dead. 
Yea, mister, that is so. 
But whether Hans or Jacob
My mother she don't know. 

So, Now I am in trouble
'Cause I can't get through my head
Whether I am Hans, what am living
Or Jacob, what am dead.