My Zeidi lived with us in my parents’ house.
He used to laugh and put me on his knee.
And he spoke about his life in Poland,
He spoke with a bitter memory.
He spoke about the soldiers who would beat him.
They laughed at him and tore his long black coat.
He spoke about a synagogue that they burned down,
And the crying that could be heard beneath the smoke.
But Zeidi made us laugh and Zeidi make us sing,
And Zeidi made a Kiddush every Friday night.
And Zeidi, Oh, my Zeidi, how I loved him so,
And Zeidi used to teach me wrong from right.
His eyes lit up when he would teach me Torah.
He taught me every line, oh, so carefully.
He spoke about our slavery in Egypt land,
And how God took us out and made us free.
But winter went by and summer came along.
I went to camp to run and play,
And when I came back home, they said, “Zeidi’s gone.”
And all his books were packed and stored away.
I don’t know why or how it came to be.
It happened slowly over many years.
We just stopped being Jewish like my Zeidi was.
And no one cared enough to shed a tear.
But Zeidi made us laugh,
And Zeidi made us sing,
And Zeidi made a seder Pesach night.
And Zeidi, O my Zeidi, how I loved him so.
And Zeidi used to teach me wrong from right.
Many winters went by, many summers came along,
And now my children sit in front of me.
And who will be the Zeidi of my children?
Who will be their Zeidi, if not me?
Who will be the Zeidi of our children?
Who will be their Zeidis, if not we?
Who will be their Zeidis, if not we?
This song of course was not composed by this poster. I’m sure he did not mean to take credit for it. It is a famous song and he probably figured everyone was familiar with it