The little boy sits on his Tatte’s knee,
For unknown reasons, he’s crying bitterly.
Tatte smiles down, why do you cry so?
One day words of Torah your lips will flow.
For you see Hashem has sworn,
That it won’t depart from my mouth one word.
Not even from my grandchildren, so remember little one:
Shema yisroel Hashem Elokainu Hashem echad.
The boy is now eight years of age,
His Tatte takes him to visit a great sage.
Who tells him privately, listen my son:
Forever remember that our G-d is only one.
Barely three days go by,
When in the city you heard an unearthly cry.
Mother and son are ripped apart; do you know why?
To become a non-Jew; but he would rather die!
Years of suffering befall him,
He finally does cave in.
He slowly forgets everything,
Including who Hashem is.
Many years pass on; so much has gone on in his life,
He’s now threatening a town to leave with his big long knife.
Suddenly an old man approaches, Binyomin is that you?!
He just stops dead in his tracks, staring at this old Jew.
Old man, you look familiar, where do I know you from?
Binyomin, don’t you recall? You are my only son!
Years ago you were torn from us,
A miracle has occurred; I must inform Ima at once!
Wait right there! Please let me speak.
I have just one memory; it is of you I do think.
You’re saying something to me,
Unfortunately, more than that I cannot see.
O Binyomin, my son,
Shema yisroel Hashem echad.
These were the words I spoke to you.
Please, I beg of you: become a frum Jew!
Years flow by; now his children are so little.
And he is telling them about a swear from G-d.
Torah will live in my grandchildren’s mouths, young or old.
They will know the words: Shema yisroel Hashem Elokainu Hashem echad.
