Luurlüttje Kaneeljud’!
Wa’ süht he verdweer ut!
Hangt Band ut, hangt Trand ut,
Hannelt aller-allerhand Grandguud.

Tiny, little Cinnamon Jew!
How funny looking he walks about!
Strings hanging out, bric-à-brac hanging out,
Hawking poor folk’s finds on the tout!

   Isaak, is dat Schipp kam’n?
   Is mien Sävel mitkam’n?
   Krieg’ ’k ’n Wagen? Krieg’ ’k ’n Popp,
   Krieg’ ’k mien Hoot mit Feddern op?

   Isaac, is the ship here yet?
   And my saber? It’s in your bag I bet.
   Am I getting a wagon? A doll for me?
   And that hat with feathers on top for Marie?

   »Kinner, noch nicht!
   Tokumm’n Johr kummt ’t vellicht.
   Dat Woter weer dick worrn,
   Määt teebn bet de Glicksorn!«

   “Not yet, kinder. Geyt avek! Let go of me!
   Dey’ll all be here next year maybe.
   De vater turned tick, de voyage a crawl.
   You must now vait till dere is a vindfall.”

Luurlüttje Kaneeljud’!
Wa’ süht he fideel ut!
So afschaarn, so utfraarn,
Snackt jimmer, jimmer vun de Glücksaarn.

Tiny, little Cinnamon Jew!
How jolly he looks, so funny too,
So destitute and so frozen and all!
All the time that talk about some windfall!

   Abraham, wo büst du?
   Vater Abram, sühst du?
   Truurboom vun Babylon,
   Wo ’s de weise Salomon?

   Abraham, where will I find thee?
   Father Abraham, oh, dost thou not see?
   O Mourning Tree of Babylon,
   Where is the wise man Solomon?