Me?! A mod?
Why, how odd!
Just thank G-d
I’m not a mod!
Were I a mod
I’d grab the rod
Of a mop or broom
And go vroom-vroom
Clean out the Coffee Room!
I’d suffer no fool
Who tries playing cool
And uses any tool
To break every rule
Like a boy in school
Instead of a fight
Every day and night
Over basics so trite
Of Yiddishkeit
We’d treat each other
Like sister and brother
And help one another
Kindle the fire
And shteig ever higher
In ???? and ???? ????
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