And with us was a man of the cloth

A Rabbi, no less, who dared eat broth

Made of the blood of Christian kids

The remains of which, he auctioned and gave to the highest bids

Sold them he did to other evil folk

Witches and devils, and one particularly fiendish bloke

Another Jew of course

Who ate that broth with no remorse

But that Rabbi, he was the worst

A money stealer, though not the first

As many others, Jews to be sure, often stole
But this rabbi, he certainly had no soul
For he stole from the poor, the weak, the sad. To the devil he must have been enslaved
For I know not a man more depraved