At the ghetto gate
A small fire burns,
And all around, great dread.
Jews now make their way
From the work brigades,
Each one in a sweat!
Should I walk on past?
Or should I stop, perhaps?
I don't know what to do!
The little Commandant
In his green overcoat
Wants what I want, too!
The little Commandant
In his green overcoat
Wants what I want, too!
Milk from the little pot,
And from the ladle, fat.
Jews, the heat is on!
A stick of firewood,
Some money from the purse,
He grabs it from your hands!
Hey, comrade of the stripe,
I'm not too "clean" tonight,
The checkpoint's drawing near!
Help me past the guard,
You'll get two pounds of lard,
And next day two pounds more!
Stand in groups of four,
You stay with me here,
Don't you run ahead!
Tell that watchman there,
"Everything's in order, sir!"
You'll have a loaf of bread.
Tell that watchman there,
"Everything's in order, sir!"
You'll have a loaf of bread.