Three o'clock in the morning,
A sound I hear, the phone is ringing,
I lift it up and turn it in my hand,
I see that it's from the Holy Land,

My heart begins to race,
The blood drains from my face,
My hands heavy, I want to scream,
As I know what this might mean,

Did my son have another baby,
Which one day I will hold in my hand,
Or did something else happen maybe,
Another attack on the Holy Land?

How should a mother feel,
When her son is far away,
How's she supposed to deal,
Every time she hears a cry?

Hashem, please protect my little children,
Even when they've grown up tall and strong,
Help whoever's on the other end of this phone,
A birthing mother or a victim of a stone,

Hashem, please protect...

Three o'clock in the afternoon,
I listen as I tidy up the room,
On the phone my son makes a siyum,
He says out loud, "Uhnoo mashkeemim",

I look out the window where they used to play,
The sleepless nights and I can hear him say,
Mommy, can you hear me? Did you fall asleep?
I'm here, I say, before I start to weep,

Thank you, Hashem, for my little children,
For making them to grow up tall and strong,
Thank you for sleepless nights that have led me,
To this moment to hear this song,

Thank you, Hashem, for...