“‘Of all de ladish in de land,
His woife’s de one he fearsh;
Shalome chase him up and down
For eighteen hundred yearsh.
Clo! clo! any old clo!
Every time he veel about
He call—Old clo!
“‘Husbandsh all—vot appensh next,
Ven de pair ish gone to ped?
Shalome she is werry wexed,
And voshes Ikey’s ’ed!
Clo! clo! any old clo!
Every time he veel about
He call—Old clo!’
“Forbear, Jew, forbear! Not even your age—your wanderings—your woe—give you a right thus to torture a human heart. But is not your punishment exceptional as your crime? Are we all destined to equal sorrow?
“‘Ikey can’t de shecrets shing
Of dose eternal hallsh;
But when you’ve bought de veddin-ring,
Ma tear, look out for squallsh!
Clo! clo! any old clo!
Every time he veels about
He calls—Old Clo!’
“But is there no help, Jew, no relief? Will Mrs. Robert Bircham be either by my tortured side throughout eternity, or chasing me—her panting victim—from star to star?
“‘She vill! exshept you teal mit poor old Ikey. De shecret is in de buzshum of de Wandering Jew. Vot vill you shay now? Or shall ve teal after de pall to-night? Moin heart is light. I vill tance and shing. You musht come mit me to de pall.’
“Impose your own conditions, awful being! I accept them at once.
“‘Ve shall shee. Ve shall shee.’
“Nay! trifle with me not. Have you such a secret? Husbands will erect statues to you wherever men live together in human habitations. Have you such a secret?
“‘Yesh.’
“The November moon floated sadly over the grim human suffering and the eternal woe. Notice, oh, reader, the river still flowed on. Tremendous thought!”
