II
The princess braids an enchanted loaf of quiet halleloollabies .
And it feels as good as a steambath to the Tarshish Jew .
He sleeps in the cage as in a gilded cradle,
He mates in his sleep and weeps with joy-
Eagle-bagged, livesolong, I'm Hotsmakh-Tsingitang.
When the dear princess leaves , the night is fear.
The wiseman sits alone in the cage .
He broods, thinks , and calculates .
Death strides up and says hello to him
(0 my darling, my life, my cursed cry,
Why do you leave me alone in the night)
Death greets him with singing-
Hello, Hotsmakh-Tsingitang.
And suddenly a quadrille,
And out of the blue a wild whirl :
Einstein , Heine , Job, Freud,
Yehuda Halevi, Jesus , and the Ltidmire Maid,
All hop to the song,
Hotsa, hotsa, hotsatsa.
Hotsmakh-Tsingitang.
As the male in the cage dances along,
He gives everyone the finger.
He grabs a broom and shakes it like a palmfrond,
Shake-a-shake it here , shake-a-shake it there ,
(With the restlessness of a wolf and the calm of a bear)
To
all
the corners of our Judeo-Christian Erudition's Howd'yajudaism.
A gust of wind-
The singer, the wiseman, the thinker disappear.
Once again he's left painfully alone .
The hunchback hag East Side hobbles along,
How're ya doin' kid, you hump of my soul?
At my place there is feasting, glutting, and guzzling,
But I feel so desperately alone, I don't know where to go .
fd gladly be baptized thirteen times
If
only the goyim didn't stink.
So I will watch over you here and lull you with lullabies.
