Begged her to no longer tarry,
Love had marked her for his quarry.
Han. Dot vos id. Vell, there vos anudder veller.
Byron. Ah, yes:
A sneaking rival, hump-backed, old.
With broad acres and heaps of gold.
Han. I could schwear to it. The sucker that I vas delling about, looked as if he vosn’t rich enough to puy a pound of air. Vell, he kept coming in und boddering dem lovers all the dime.
Byron. Base hell-hound.
Han. Dat might haf peen his name. But vot vould you haf done to dot Canarsie cod-fish?
Byron. I would have clutched him by the neck.