Our Bags

Grandpa kept a suitcase by the door Never unpacked it, not since nineteen-four Shoes polished, papers in a pouch "Just in case," he said from the couch Mama's got one in the closet too Passport current, and a photo or two We laugh about it at the Friday meal But nobody's laughing… 'cause the joke is real Our bags are always packed Our bags are always packed But where the hell would we go? Where the hell would we go? Every door we ever knocked on Shut behind us long ago Our bags are always packed… where the hell would we go? England threw us out in twelve-ninety France did it twice, just to be sure Spain gave us till the summer of ninety-two Then Portugal said "you too" Russia said "we'll give you the Pale" Germany… well, you know the tale South Africa was lovely for a while Till the gates went up and we lost the smile London? Marches every weekend Paris? Keep your kippah in your hat Toronto, Sydney, they're lovely, but They're painting slogans on the shul out back Israel? That's the plan, they say With a rocket shelter down the hall America? The last good door… Ask your grandpa… he's heard it all Somebody said, "Try Mars, they're taking bookings" Somebody said, "They'll hate us there too" Somebody said, "Then pass the brisket, There's nothing else that we can do" And the old man laughed, and he opened his case And there was no gold, no deed, no key… Just the candlesticks, a prayer book, and a photograph Of every place we used to be 'Cause a poet said, long time ago We carry our homeland in a book You can burn the house and take the land But you can't take what you never took So the bags stay packed, the candles burn We'll dance at the wedding, we'll argue, we'll pray Where the hell would we go? Right here… we're here to stay… today Our bags are always packed Our bags are always packed But where the hell would we go? Where the hell would we go? We'll stay and we'll build and we'll argue and grow Our bags are always packed… but we ain't gonna go …Still. Keep the passport current.