by Moishe Broderzon
I know no stories, don’t know business,
My name is Michael, and a Jew,
and a very hard working man.
Still, in my tiny place, big as a hole
there isn’t much to chew.
I’m a slave for a meal;
and my wife who can scream out,
that her husband’s a worthless lout.
My name’s Michael I’m a Jew,
I’ve a tiny place, big as a hole,
not too far from the roof,
I feel like I’ve been stabbed,
for my wife Nekhl.
Don’t know stories, don’t know business,
My name is Michael – it’s who I am,
a ne’er do well – like a bad frost.
I’m the one that troouble finds,
if someone has to be evicted,
I’m the one they have in mind,
if someone has to get arrested –
I’m the one they choose.
I came into the world with zest
from a family with wealth,
but was exchanged right away
for the son of hired help
who chose Michael as the name for me,
But that was a bad choice.
for Khaim was who I was supposed to be…