But at times a baleful vision
Rose before his shuddering view,
For he knew that circumcision
Was expected from a Jew.
At a meeting of the Rabbis,
Held about the Whitsuntide,
Was this thorough-paced Barabbas
Wedded to his Hebrew bride:
All his previous debts compounded,
From the sponging-house he came,
And his father's feelings wounded
With reflections on the same.
But the sire his son accosted—
"Split my wig! if any more
Such a double-dyed apostate
Shall presume to cross my door!
Not a penny-piece to save ye
From the kennel or the spout;—
Dinner, John! the pig and gravy!—
Kick this dirty scoundrel out!"
Forth rushed I. O. Uwins, faster
Than all winking—much afraid
That the orders of the master
Would be punctually obeyed:
Sought his club, and then the sentence
Of expulsion first he saw;
No one dared to own acquaintance
With a Bailiff's son-in-law.
Uselessly, down Bond Street strutting,
Did he greet his friends of yore:
Such a universal cutting
Never man received before:
Till at last his pride revolted—
Pale, and lean, and stern he grew;
And his wife Rebecca bolted
With a missionary Jew.
Ye who read this doleful ditty,
Ask ye where is Uwins now?
Wend your way through London city,
Climb to Holborn's lofty brow;