Ich bin der alte
Ahasuer.
I am the old
Ahasuer;
I wander here,
I wander there.
My rest is gone,
My heart is sair;
I find it never;
Never mair.
Loud roars the storm,
The mill-dams tear;
I cannot perish,
O Malheur!
My heart is void,
My head is bare:
I am the old
Ahasuer.
Belloweth ox,
And danceth bear;
I find them never,
Never mair.
I'm the old Hebrew
On a tear;
I order arms,
My heart is sair.
I'm goaded round
I know not where;
I wander here,
I wander there.
I'd like to sleep,
But must forbear:
I am the old
Ahasuer.
I meet folks alway
Unaware;
My rest is gone,
I'm in despair.
I cross all lands,
The sea I dare:
I travel here,
I wander there.
I feel such pain,
I sometimes swear;
I am the old
Ahasuer.
Criss-cross I ramble
Anywhere:
I find it never,
Never mair.
Against the wall
I lean my spear;
I find no quiet,
I declare.
My peace is lost,
I'm in despair;
I swing like pen~
dulum in air.
I'm hard of hearing,
You're aware.
Curacoa is
A fine liqueur.
I listed once
En militaire.
I find no comfort
Anywhere.
But what's to stop it?
Pray declare.
My peace is gone,
My heart is sair;
I am the old
Ahasuer.
Now I know nothing,
Nothing mair.
THE SONG OF THE WIDOW, CLARA
BAKETHECAKES.