Verse 1
There’s a young man dying inside of every church.
You can buy him in the gift shop with all the other merch.
They got Bibles and crosses and candles in all kinds of hues,
But they ain’t got no answer for why people love dead Jews.
Verse 2
The circumcised young child later went to Hebrew school.
Sometimes he’d find a dice game when he should have been in shul.
Then came his bar mitzvah; there was music, dancing, and booze.
Yeshua was a cool kid, kicking his blue suede shoes.
Verse 3
Martin Luther was the leader of the Protestant Reform.
His teaching spread like wildfire, kept the congregation warm.
He wrote “The Jews and Their Lies”; you could buy it on Amazon, only slightly used,
And it might learn you something about why people love dead Jews.
Verse 4
MLK was the king of kindness and also a Zionist.
There are some jokers denying this; they think he must have been lying to us.
They think they can rewrite history to be anything they choose.
No wonder so many people love dead Jews.
Verse 5
Anne Frank was a rock star among Jew and Gentile.
When I was six, I had a picture of her and was transfixed by her beautiful smile.
She was a sister I never had; cheered me up when I’d get a bad case of blues.
It’s a good thing there’s more than one reason why people love dead Jews.
Verse 6
Social justice warriors with their marches and their chants,
Slim chance they could find Gaza if you handed them a map.
Given a book of history, that’d be an offer easy to refuse.
Who are these charlatans teaching children to love dead Jews?
Verse 7
I pull back the blinds, find they’re still out there in the street,
Unaware that they’re on stolen ground, unaware that they’re the elite.
Atrocities in Sudan and Syria rarely make the news.
As my Bubby said, “No Jews, no news.”
Verse 8
The rabbi received no royalties for the Sermon on the Mount.
It’s a moot point now anyway; those words no longer seem to count.
Parishioners won’t hear mercy preached, starved for wisdom in their pews,
And that don’t bode well for anyone, not even you.
Verse 9
I can tell by your vibrations that you’re not like us.
If I turn my back on you, you’d throw me under the bus.
You say, “Why don’t you go back to where you came from?
Why can’t you people learn to lose?”
I’m Mordeci, the Acidic Rabbi, and I say f*** you.
Verse 10
I feel a little better, but I don’t need to drop the F-bomb again.
I’m too busy making my way to Jerusalem.
That’s the holy city within; to get in, you’ve got to pay your dues.
If you want to pass through the great gate, prostrate and ask to take refuge.
Verse 11
Let me tell you a story ’bout Europe in ’38.
The Pope was thinking things over and decided it was safest to collaborate.
He said, “Children, they want us to mind our P’s and Q’s,
So don’t gum up the works by sticking your neck out for some Jews.
And don’t forget who’s behind the Spanish Flu.
Our murdered saviors, they always stand accused.”
Verse 12
My grandfather was an immigrant, found work in Detroit laying bricks.
He was an uneducated peasant from Poland, not unlike your hillbillies and hicks.
He seldom left the neighborhood, because if he did, he’d often come back bruised.
I always wondered if he was surprised to find Americans also love dead Jews.
Verse 13
Motel 6, grab a Gideon’s Gospel of John.
He asserts most convincingly that the Hebrews are Satan’s spawn.
He said, “We’ll be going to heaven while they’re on their hell-bent cruise.”
Thanks for asking why people love dead Jews.