Shekels for bones
A clover for a better pair of clothes
In the kitchen, she would read the tea leaves
To understand the fateful hand of god
Shtetl-skinned and rosewood eyes
An eighteen-year-old orphan bride
A luckless man was made to fight
The czar's Great war with Russian pride
A dagger for impetuousness
A sword for disappointment
The devil for poor influence
A thorn for false importance
But who knew? who knew?
The bitter lament that laid in that brew
Which nourished the fetus who dreamt and grew
Into a young son, who would be forgotten
Cradle gla** fallen, the swarm of a pogrom
When you wake up
She'll come running
Fuss and furrow
To her humming
Meme-meme, hear them?
They're coming
To burn our village down
The arch of a wedding
The arrow of sorrow
A basin that's broken
A bull leads to quarrel
A coffin, misfortune
A cage of proposal
The fern sees an unfaithful lover
The owl is domestic failure
And grief is the seven stars together
So before you cast your stones
Canada is waiting for you home
Look here, i see a boat
Canada is waiting for you home
Have you seen him lately?
He's getting friendly with the land lady
Send us word, you'll be coming here hastily
You can't raise those children alone
But who knew, who knew?
That bitter lament that laid in that brew
Which nourished the fetus, who dreamt and grew
Into a dear young son
And grief is where she rests her head now
And grief is what the father fed now
Dearerst mother, wife of the grandfather
How do we atone?
Shekels for bones
A clover for a better pair of clothes
In the kitchen she would read the tea leaves
To understand the fateful hand of god