My grandpa was a communist,
On a train bound for a prison,
Lennin thought he's an antagonist,
He had a plan -he had vision.
On a train bound for a prison,
And he jumped off the iron horse,
He had a plan -he had vision
To swim for his freedom of course.
And he jumped off the iron horse,
My dad did not tell where he went,
To swim for his freedom of course,
Some distant land he always dreamt.
My dad did not tell where he went,
He married some lass from Poland,
Some distant land he always dreamt,
Her chicken matzah ball soup grand.
He married some lass from Poland,
Lennin thought he's an antagonist,
Her chicken matzah ball soup grand,
My grandpa was a communist.
Some say it tastes like cardboard
While others think it’s great.
The way you feel about it
Isn’t worth a big debate.
For if your background’s Jewish
You’ll consume it for a week,
In honor of tradition
Or acknowledgement you seek.
I like mine spread with butter
And a slice of Muenster cheese
Or mixed with egg for matzoh* brei,
A breakfast sure to please.
But when the week is over,
Let me make this very clear,
I will not taste another bite
‘Til Passover next year!
*or matzo, matzah or any other spelling you like!
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