the gray bad wolf will come
And will grab you by your arm.
Lullaby...
Oh, my best calico skirt
I kept you from getting dirt
Then my many kids were born
And for diapers I got you torn.
Lullaby...
Where's a bush, there's a leaf
Where's a gutter, there's a stream
I will sure find another
But I miss you to an extreme.
Lullaby...
You remember, my dear love
How we used to stroll about
Sailing over our heads
Was the prettiest ever cloud.
Lullaby...
Just listen how she sings.
That gentile woman has gone
completely crazy.
Now her boy may catch a cold,
now he has a fever.
Just like a good
Jewish mother.
What do you think?
If a woman puts
leather pants on,
she doesn't become
a man for that matter.
Maria...
I love you.
Yefim...
I'm scared.
Is it really and truly
Our river dried in the wood
Is it really and truly
My beloved left for good.
I must tell you,
Madame Vavilova,
this is the best time
for people.
One regime has left,
the other one's not here yet.
No contributions,
no pogroms.
He's so clever only in daytime.
And what will you say at night,
when the whole town
will wail from fear?
Shut up! All morning
you peer into the street,
looking for something,
waiting for somebody.
When a new
regime comes,
it says
everything will be all right.
Then it says
it will be much worse.
And then it says we have
to find the guilty ones.
And who's guilty?
Who?
I'm asking you
who is to blame?
Townspeople and philistines!
Get out of your cellars!
You won't be punished!
The ataman's going
to speak now.
I am the ataman!
Townspeople and philistines!
Help the atamans!
We'll kill you.
We're going to kill you now!
We're going to kill you now!
We're going to kill you now!
We're imposing a contribution on you!
Mamma!
Don't touch me!
We gotcha, Yid!
Here's one for you!
It hurts!
Let go of me!
What are you doing?
Don't beat me!
Get her! Catch her!
- I don't want to play with you!
- So you don't want to?
I don't want
to play with you!
So you're putting up resistance?
Just look at her!
Mamma!
Mamma!
They hurt me!
Mamma!
Tie her up!
Mamma!
Mamma!
Mamma!
Pogrom mongers!
Bandits!
Murderers!
Children!
And these are my children!
A three-inch caliber one.
The trams will
never be running
in our town,
Comrade Vavilova.
Never.
Why not, Yefim?
Because there will be no one
to ride on them.
One more visit
from Ataman Struk,
or the wild Marusya,
and there will be none of us left.
Everything will be all right, Yefim.
Everything will be all right.
Ataman Struk
gave a haircut to my brother.
He took a pair of scissors,
regular scissors,
with which beautiful
dresses are made,
and cut his beard.
Only together with his beard,
exactly with those scissors that
make beautiful dresses,
he had cut his head off.
And had a very long
good laugh.
Shut up, Yefim.
You will scare the children.
You've become
so spiteful.
No, I'm not spiteful.
Not at all.
I'm for the International of kindness.
There're so few kind
people left in the world.
I don't know,
but perhaps one day
people will live
where they like
and the Jewish Pale will not
be restricted to cellars.
Shut up, Yefim,
you will scare the children.
Wait, Maria,
let me finish.
All our life
is filled with cares and troubles.
Now you have to hide,
then you get to have your close ones
buried, then you yourself are buried.
You have absolutely
no time to talk.
Can you tell me,
Comrade Commissar,
why is it so?
How indignant everybody felt when
the British attacked the Boers.
And how distressed we all were when
the Turks massacred the Armenians.
But will anyone raise his voice
if tomorrow Yefim Magazannik
is no more?
Where did you get it from,
Yefim, those fairy tales
about the International
of kindness?
The International is founded on
the blood of workers and peasants,
people swallow gunpowder for it,
and become very spiteful.
Fighting, marching,
lice!
Lice, fighting and