On Sunday in the cathedral one whispers to some,
On Monday's streets are set in motion events to come,
On Tuesday people chatter and splatter race hatred noisome,
On Wednesday it rushes and rustles aloud: Pogrom!

On Thursday one is convinced, renewed, and so it grows:
The guilty Jews are the cause of all of Russia's woes!
Up to now we've been patient, they say, goodness knows.
(And for this more vodka into our people flows....)

On Friday is found that first corpse, resurrected,
One stabs in the ribs the Jewish curse suspected,
With sturdiest knives the vermin are best corrected.
One throws their women into ponds, as directed.

On Saturday one reads something of this in our "good" press:
The little dust up is already past, they do but confess, 
And for this both our God and our state one must bless...
(Otherwise, just keep your trap shut about this mess.)