countered David, and punned in somewhat bad taste.
"Go, Liar! Go, Liar!" he chanted, pointing.
"Nasty little Sheeny," answered the giant, and dropping his spear he crushed his helmet down over his ears until these latter stood out at right angles to his head, raised his hands palm uppermost, and waggled them beside his shoulders, rolled up his eyes, ejaculated "My! vot a pizness," and with an exaggerated lisp burst into derisive song:—
"Oh, Solomon Levi,
Levi, Tra la la la,
Poor Sheeny Levi,
Tra la la la la la la la la la la;
My name is Solomon Levi,
At my Store in Chatham Street,
That's where you buy your coats and vests
And everything that's neat.
Second-handed ulsterettes
And everything that's . . ."
Smack!! and Goliath's song died upon his lips with the suddenness of a cut-off gramophone.
In the utter shock of the suddenness of the surprise, he sat down suddenly and heavily, and
