SHACOB'S LAMENT.
Oxcoose me if I shed some tears,
Und wipe my nose avay;
Und if a lump vos in my troat,
It comes up dere to shtay.
My sadness I shall now unfoldt;
Und if dot tale of woe
Don'd do some Dutchmans any good,
Den I don't pelief I know.
You see I fall myself in love;
Und effery night I goes
Across to Brooklyn by dot pridge,
All dressed in Sunday clothes.
A vidder vomans vos der brize,
Her husband he vos dead;
Und all alone in this colt vorldt,
Dot vidder vos, she said.
Her heart for love vos on der pine,
Und dot I like to see;
Und all der time I hoped dot heart
Vos on der pine for me.
I keeps a butcher shop, you know,
Und in a stocking stout,
I put avay my gold and bills,
Und no one gets him oudt.
If in der night some bank cashier
Goes skipping off mit cash,
I shleep so sound as nefer vos,
Vhile rich folks go to shmash.
I court dot vidder sixteen months,
Dot vidder she courts me;
Und vhen I says, "Vill you be mine?"
She says, "You bet I'll be!"
Ve vos engaged—oh, blessed fact!
I squeeze dot dimpled hand;
Her head upon my shoulder lays,
Shust like a bag of sand.
"Before der vedding day vos set,"
She vispers in mine ear,
"I like to say I haf to use
Some cash, my Jacob, dear.
"I owns dis house and two big farms,
Und ponds und railroad shtock;
Und up in Yonkers I bossess
A grand big peesness block.
"Der times vos dull, my butcher boy,
Der market vos no good;
Und if I sell"—I squeezed her handt
To show I understood.
Next day—oxcoose my briny tears—
Dot shtocking took a shrink;
I counted out twelf hundred in
Der cleanest kind o' chink.
Und later, by two days or more,
Dot vidder shlopes avay;
Und leaves a note behindt for me,
In vhich dot vidder say,—
"Dear Shake:—
Der rose vas redt,
Der violet blue—
You see I've left,
Und you're left, too!"