THE DUST ABOUT THE GOLD DUST.
A lac of lost rupees might make
The loser cry, "alack!"
But think upon their grief who're robb'd
Of gold, and by the sack!
And what a dust they did kick up
To get their gold dust back!
To rob two British merchants thus
Did wicked Jews combine;
They knew that gold dust had arriv'd,
And what house did consign:
Said each, "Since from the mine it comes,
I'll make some of it mine!"
With firm right-hand a bad Clerk forg'd
The write-hand of the Firm:
The Customs gave the box (where was
Reflection, then, O Sturm!)
And all the bags of gold, inside,
Were bagg'd, like briefs in Term.
They cabb'd the booty all away,
That boots might leave no tracks;
Then lugg'd the sacks out, one by one,
And laid them on their backs:
And marshall'd them all in a row,
Like troops of Marshal Saxe!
They hid them in the pot-house low
Of Moses—"fence," and "do;"
For wealth amass'd, 'tis doubtful how,
Call'd "Money Moses," too;
The world gave him that Christian name,
Because he was a Jew!
Now Moses had a daughter, dark,
A damsel all discreet,
He gave the gold into her hands,
And she perform'd the feat
Of selling it to a goldsmith Jew,
Another wicked cheat!
Into the goldsmith's crucible
The bag of ore she thrust;
Then, as the dust dissolv'd, she cried,
"Come, down, now, with your dust!"
And he, all in the melting mood,
Said, "I suppose I must."
At once some pounds for every ounce
He paid upon the spot;
A shining ingot soon was turn'd
Out of the melting-pot.
A precious scrape the Jew got in,
All through that same ingot.
For 'mong the thieves divisions rose,
Like vinegar with oil,
They disagreed—for one would still
The other rob and foil:
And all their deep-laid schemes were spoil'd
In sharing out the spoil.
At last, of their dissentient rows,
A 'peach became the fruit,
One Jew, in jew-rious, blabb'd about
The dust and the dispute:
The gang were taken, and the law
Fell cute to prosecute.
Then Moses, goldsmith, damsel, clerk,
Into their pickle fell;
They found they were no sooner sold
Than clapp'd into a cell:
From which not one of them could bolt,
While bolted in so well!
At last the trial did come on,
The Court was in a throng,
The Evidence against them all
Was heavy, dense, and strong;
Guilty the Ju-ry found the Jews,
And so might end my song:—
But no; the lawyers found a flaw,
To keep the law at bay—
Not Bot'ny-bay—the way by which
They should be sent away—
So one or two, by getting off,
May still in London stay.
Now all the Culprits' fates depend
On what the Judges choose;
To sin-a-gain, not Synagogue,
Their liberty they'd use:
So England hopes her Judges wont
Emancipate the Jews!
