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Song from “Frumkiss” is set to music

Heiko Lehmann by Stefanie Rumpler (www.stefanie-rumpler.de)

Dem Pogromtchik’s Viglid (The Pogromist's Lullaby) is the song that put Elyokim Faktor on the map as a writer in The Frumkiss Family Business. It has now been recorded by our dear friend Heiko Lehmann and his band The Hazi Bros.:

Sanne Möricke (guest): accordion
Hardy Reich: mandolin
Ben Lehmann: lead-guitar
Heiko Lehmann: voice, organ, upright bass, rhythm-guitar
Music written, arranged and produced by Heiko Lehmann

Please check out the Hazi Bros.' website and YouTube channel. Their new album is called "The Plum Harvest Was Bad Last Year".

Click on the play button below to hear the song.

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Here are the lyrics, first in Yiddish and then in English.

Farvigt ver, shaygets oon a hit,                     Get rock-a-byed, bareheaded goy,
Es nemt bald a sof tsi dayn noyt;                   You’ll soon have all that you need;
A tsigl brengt der tateh mit,                          Daddy’s bringing a baby goat,
Es esn vest az es iz toyt.                             Soon as he’s killed it, you’ll feed.

Gekoylet s’tsigeleh, es shoyn                         You’ll eat the flesh and bones and blood,
Zayn hoyt mit di bayner in blit.                      Once Daddy slaughters the kid.
Posmakeveh zakh, farges shoyn                     Just smack your lips and then forget
Az s’tsigeleh’s nebakh a yid.                          That that poor little kid is a yid.

Oy, driml-zhe ooreleh mayner,                       Doze off, my dear forskinned baby,
Zay shtil vi an eyfeleh past;                          Be quiet, like babies should be;
Der raykher tatesheh dayner                         Your wealthy father’s on his way
Fin shteytl kimt inter a last.                          From Jewtown––he’s been on a spree.

Es zugt di mameh dir lign?                          You don’t believe what Mommy says?
A kik ti dortn baym ployt.                             Just look at that fence over there.
Es kroket a shparber zayn nign:                     A vulture’s croaking out its song:
Haynt esti gur yidishes broyt.                        ”There’s Jew on today’s bill of fare.”

Fin khale’est neymen a bisn,                         You’ll take a bite of their challah,
Fin ling, kigl, leyber in khreyn:                       Their horseradish, liver and lung.
Rosh-khoydesh iz zey haynt Nisn,                 Two weeks today’s their holiday,
Kayn yid vet kayn paysakh nish’ zeyn.          No Jew will see Passover come.

Oy, driml-zhe yoyreshl mayner,                      Doze off, little heir to my fortune,
Zay shtil vi an eyfeleh past;                          Be quiet, like babies should be;
Der kliger tatesheh dayner                             Your clever father’s on his way
Fin shteytl kimt inter a last.                          From Jewtown––he’s been on a spree.

Dem tatn tsit zakh in mark tsi,                        Your daddy’s in the marketplace
Mekayem zayn shlulem lu-voz;                      ––The Bible says, “Plunder and loot.”
Deym shparber tsitert der kark tsi,                  The vulture’s throat starts to quiver,
Im kitslt biz iber der noz.                               His nostrils will soon follow suit.

Kayn elt’ren hot der shparber, oy,                  The vulture’s a poor orphan, oy,
Iz taylt der tateh im kitsveh;                         Your dad gets him onto the dole
Nedooves shenkt er, maase goy,                    And gives him alms just like a goy:
Nemt maysern di meysey-mitsve.                   A tenth of the total death toll.

Oy, driml-zhe galekhl mayner,                        Doze off, my dear little churchman,
Zay shtil vi an eyfeleh past;                          Be quiet, like babies should be;
Der frimer tatesheh dayner                            Your pious father’s on his way
Fin shteytl kimt inter a last.                          From Jewtown––he’s been on a spree.

Der tateh arbet flink in shtib,                         Your dad works fast inside the house,
Doos shparberl vart in deroysn;                      The vulture sits waiting outside;
Az endlekh vert fin shtib a grib,                     Once every room’s become a tomb,
Ayn got kon deym shparber farshtoysn.   The bird drools for those who have died.

Almekhtiker got hot indz kristn                      Almighty God made us Christians
Bashafn tsi hershn di velt,                             To rule his world, yes, indeed.
In yidn bashtimt indz far kistn                       And gave us Jews as storage bins
Fin alts voos di shparberlekh felt.                   For anything vultures might need.

Oy, driml-zhe agagl mayner,                          Doze off, my dear little Agag,
Zay shtil vi an eyfeleh past;                         Be quiet, like babies should be;
Der humen-tatesheh dayner                          Your Haman-father’s on his way
Fin shteytl kimt inter a last.                           From Jewtown, he’s been on a spree.

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