Tearfully, my mother says:
Don’t take any chances.
God forbid, up in the tree
You’ll freeze among the branches.
Mother, please don’t cry, I say,
Ah Mother, don’t be sad.
But when I transform myself into a bird,
My mother says:
Oh, Itzik, love, In the name of God,
take a little scarf with you to keep from catching cold.
And dear, put your galoshes on,
the winter’s cold and aching,
Be sure to wear your fleece-lined cap,
Woe’s me, my heart is breaking.