Papa, the nation is at war,
You say itís their concern, not yours,
But we are Germans, arenít we now?
We canít betray and disavow
A country that was good to us,
That fed us, clothed us, took us in.
Jews alone, my son, are kin.
Papa, the German people starve,
Our profits double while theirs halve,
Inflation now is running rife,
They suffer such hardships and strife
While we, my father, speculate,
Make fortunes in commodities.
Jews mind their own business.
Papa, the British saved our skin
In Europe, here we do them in,
Our terror gangs commit foul crimes
Against them. O unhappy times
These are, and they our friends.
Jews fight for their own ends.
Papa, see that little boy,
That weeping Palestinian boy,
His flesh is burned black with napalm,
His every movement shows alarm
And fear, his eyes are frantic, wild.
Jews must live, my child.
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