In connection with my uncle Mordkhe Schaechter‘s (MS, 1927 – 2007) yortsayt a couple of weeks ago, I am featuring a short children‘s song, “Oy, kh‘bin gegangen eyns‟ (“Oy, I Went One”) that he sang for the collector Leybl Kahn in 1954. (see the earlier post of another song performed by him).
Mordkhe Schaechter at Yiddish Vokh, Circle Lodge, NY 1985.
Photo by Itzik Gottesman
A longer version of this cumulative song involving animals “Tsimba-rimba‟ was recorded on the CD Di grine katshke (Living Traditions 1801) in 1997 produced by Living Traditions. Lorin Sklamberg is the lead singer and according to the notes, he learned this song from “Inna Slavskaya, a Soviet immigrant singer now living in Berlin, Germany. Inna learned the song from her mother‟.
Unfortunately, MS only sings three verses because, as he says later in the recording for Kahn, he only wanted to make sure he got the melodies down before he forgot them, and wasn‘t concerned with the words.
It is possible that in a 1953-54 issue of Der seminarist, a journal of the Yidisher lerer-seminar in NYC, he printed all the words. I hope to find the issue and if the words are found, we will add them to the blog.
S’iz a kinderlidl vos ikh hob fartseykhnt fin a froy fin zlotshev, mizrekh-galitsye.
It’s a children’s song that I recorded from a woman from Zlotshev, Eastern Galicia (Today, in Ukraine – Zolochiv).
Oy, ikh bin gegangen ayns, far vuz zhe nisht keyn tsvay?
ikh hob gezeyn a hin. Vi azoy zhe makht di hin?
dun de de dundun makht di hin.
Oy, I went one, so why not two?
I saw a chicken. What sound does a chicken make?
Dundedundun makes the chicken.
Oy ikh bin gegangen tsvay, far vuz zhe nisht keyn dray?
Ikh hob gezeyn a hun, vi azoy zhe makht der hun?
kikariki makht der hun.
dun de de dundun makhe di hin.
Oy, I went two; so why not three?
I saw a rooster; What sound does a rooster make?
Kikariki makes the rooster.
Dundedundn makes the chicken.
Oy, ikh bin gegangen dray, far vuz zhe nisht kayn tsvay? [fir?]
ikh hob gezen a ganz, vi azoy zhe makht di ganz?
SPOKEN un azoy vayter, un azoy vayter.
Oy, I went three, so what not two?
I saw a goose. What sound does the goose make?
SPOKEN etc. etc.
Researching “Cabaret Warsaw,” a cd of music created and performed by Jews in Warsaw between the wars, I was pointed to a 1929 book called “35 letste teatr lider fun Azazel un Sambatiyon” (Azazel and Sambatiyon being two kleynkunst venues popular at the time). I found the book at Brooklyn’s Chasidic “Library Of Agudas,” along with six tiny books of theater songs and monologues (lyrics only) published in 1933 and 1934 by bookseller and record shop owner Itzik Zhelonek (Zielonek). I decided to track down the melodies for as many of these songs as possible (for more information click here); Itzik Gottesman sent me a version of one of them sung by Jacob Gorelik - this week’s Yiddish Song of the Week, known as “Dos fleshl” (the bottle) or “Tshort vos’mi” (The Devil Take’s It).
Gorelik learned the song from a guy in Central Park – back when it was a place people went to “sing and play” (he contrasted that to its present reputation as a place to buy drugs). He didn’t know the man, or where the song came from, but he said it shares its melody with the Russian song “Kare Glaski” (“Brown Eyes,” see Russian lyrics below).
The words Gorelik sang were quite different from the lyric printed in “35 letste teatr lider” (texts to both versions are below). Sometimes singers “folk process” what they’ve heard, or they forget the words and re-imagine them from scratch.
Here is the song as sung by Jacob Gorelik, recorded in his NYC apartment, 1985, by Itzik Gottesman:
Gorelik’s spoken introduction, transcribed and translated by Itzik Gottesman:
A special genre of songs are about drunks. Because, basically, the background of every drunk is a sad one: a person is not born drunk – troubles, bad habits, bad family; the father was a drunk. And here we have a song of a drunk, and he tells us, more or less, of his life. I don‘t know the father, the mother [of the song]; I don‘t know who wrote the song and who created the melody. Possibly it‘s an old theater song, very possiblew but it has the taste of a folksong. I heard it my first years in America in Central Park. I lived then at 110th street, near the park. And in those years the park was not just a place to sell drugs, or for other deviates. The park was the for the youth. We came and sang, played, sang. We were not afraid. We even slept there till 2:00 at night near the reservoir. And there I heard someone sing this song of a drunk. I don‘t remember his name.
The song of a drunk – ‘Tshort Voz’mi’, which means – The Devil Take It. Gorelik’s version, transcribed and translated by Jane Peppler:
Yo, hob ikh in der velt alts farlorn
A yosim geblibn bin ikh fri
Mayne fraynt hob ikh, hob ikh shoyn lang farlorn
Mayn fraynt iz nor dos fleshl, tshort voz’mi
I’ve lost everything in this world,
I was orphaned at an early age.
I lost my friends long ago,
Only my bottle is my friend
The devil take it.
Ikh hob a mol a nomen gehat
azoy vi di greste aristokrasi
un haynt hob ikh im shoyn lang fargesn
vi ruft men mikh, freg baym fleshl, tshort voz’mi
I used to have a name like the great aristocrats
Now I’ve forgotten my former reputation,
What people call me now, ask the bottle
The devil take it.
Ikh hob a mol a heym gehat
Ergets vayt, ikh veys nisht vu
Haynt gey ikh arum na venad
Vu iz mayn heym?
Freg baym fleshl, tshort voz’mi
I used to have a home somewhere
Far away, I don’t know where.
Now I go around without a homeland.
Where is my home? Ask the bottle.
The devil take it.
Ikh hob a mol a gelibte gehat
Iz zi dokh tsu a tsveytn avek
Un haynt hob ikh fil, un lib nisht keyner
Mayn gelibte iz nor dos fleshl, tshort voz’mi
I used to have a sweetheart,
She’s left me for someone else.
And now I have so much, but I don’t love anybody
My sweetheart? Just this bottle.
The devil take it.
Here is the text printed in the 1929 collection:
Geven bin ikh a mentsh eyner
Bakant geven in der gantser velt
Haynt iz far mir alesding farlorn
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! Tshort vosmi!
I used to be well known in the whole world
Now everything is lost to me because of you, my bottle,
The devil take it
Gehat hob ikh a kale Gitele
Antlofn iz zi, der tayvl veyst vu
Zi hot mir geton mayn lebn derkutshen
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! tshort vosmi!
I had a bride, Gitele,
She’s run away, the devil knows where
She tormented my life thanks to you, my bottle
The devil take it
Men varft mir shteyner nokh in di gasn
“Shlogt im!” shrayt men, “dem bosyak.”
Zogt mir, menshn, farvos tut ir mikh hasn?
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! Tshort vozmi!
People throw stones at me in the street.
“Hit that bum,” they cry,
Tell me, people, why do you hate me?
Because of you, my little bottle,
Oh, the devil take it.
Vu iz mayn foter? Vu iz mayn muter?
Vu iz mayn heymat, zogt mir vu?
Fun vandern iz mir shoyn mayn lebn farmiest
Tsulib dir, mayn fleshele, okh! Tsort vozmi!
Where is my father? My mother?
My homeland? Tell me, where?
My life is ruined by wandering,
Because of you, my little bottle
The devil take it.
S’vert mir erger in di letste tsaytn
Kh’bin shoyn alt un krank un farshmakht
Un, ikh shtarb avek, mayne libe laytn,
durkh dir, mayn fleshele, oy, a gute nakht!
Lately things have gotten worse for me,
I’m old and sick and languishing
I’m dying, my dear people,
Because of you, my little bottle,
oy, good night!
Yiddish text – Gorelik’s version:
Карие глазки (Brown Eyes)
Карие глазки, где вы скрылись.
Мне вас больше не видать.
Куда вы скрылись, запропали,
Навек заставили страдать.
Выньте сердце, положите
На серебряный поднос.
Вы возьмите, отнесите
Сердце другу, пока спит.
The Yiddish Song of the Week is glad to be back after a brief hiatus caused by a hurricane-related telecommunications breakdown.
“Dos Daytshl” (“The German Guy”) as sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman [LSW] (see previous posts for her biography) is linguistically the most complicated song yet posted.
The comic ballad is international and found in many languages and is known in the Child canon as “Our Goodman” (#274). The texts have remained remarkably similar through time and languages. My folklore professor at the University of Pennsylvania, Kenneth Goldstein, played us a field recording he had made of African-American kids in West Philadelphia singing a rap version of this ballad and the words were almost the exact ones as the Yiddish lyrics LSW sings.
In The Folks Songs of Ashkenaz (pp. 139 – 142) edited by Philip V. Bohlman and Otto Holzapfel (2001), the editors make an interesting comparison of a Yiddish version found in the Ginsburg-Marek collection to a German version collected in German colonies in southern Russia. Unfortunately, they only compare the texts, though several Yiddish versions with melodies have been printed (for example, one melody of a Yiddish version exists in Yidisher folklor, YIVO 1938). Their brief history of the ballad indicates that the German versions of the song came from a Scottish variant in late 19th century, and after it was published in a German almanac in 1790 it circulated much more widely.
There are many printed Yiddish versions of the song, most recently in Yiddish Folksongs from the Ruth Rubin Archive (p. 30-31) edited by Chana Mlotek and Mark Slobin. Their introduction refers to other printed Yiddish versions. On the Yiddish ballad in comparison to other international versions read Chana Mlotek’s “International Motifs in the Yiddish Ballad” in For Max Weinriech on his Seventieth Birthday. The Yiddish ballad was still popular into the 1930s in Eastern Europe.
Since LSW comes from the Bukovina, where Jews were fluent in Yiddish and German, the German element in the song has to be analyzed not just as Germanisms in a Yiddish text, but as to what these German words evoke when sung by a Yiddish folksinger who is performing a comic song making fun of a German. Does the singing of ”Eyns, tsvey, drey” and not “dray” which would be the correct form in both Yiddish and German, indicate a funny hypercorrection of a German based word in Yiddish?
Of course, it’s not just any German being made fun of here, but a German peasant or farmer. The Germanisms also imply that such a song about a cuckold would “never” be sung about a Jewish husband and wife. Since LSW usually sings slow mournful songs it’s refreshing to hear her sing a comic song with such gusto and drama.
Di apikorsim (“The Heretics”) was the first song that Lifshe Schaechter-Widman (LSW) sang for collector Leybl Kahn in NYC in 1954. He recorded approximately 100 songs sung by LSW over the next few weeks or months. LSW is my grandmother and the child one hears in the background is my then 4-year old sister Taube. At one point during her singing, she gets up and runs after her. The spoken dialogue between LSW and Kahn is transcribed in the Yiddish text.
In Shloyme Prizament’s book Di broder zinger (Buenos-Aires, 1960), he has a version of this song with the music on pages 110-112. He writes that he wrote the words and music, and states that Pepi Litman recorded it. There is indeed a recording of Pepi Litman performing the song. This book can now be read and downloaded at the Yiddish Book Center website.
Shloyme Prizament was born in 1889 in Hibinev, Galicia and died in Buenos-Aires in 1973; his biography appears in the third volume of the “Leksikon fun yidishn teater”, pages 1873- 1876. Prizament was an amazingly prolific composer, songwriter, but I am not convinced that he wrote the song that LSW performs. The more likely scenario, in my opinion, is that he based his song on the popular current version that LSW sings.
The song itself, a maskilic song mocking the Hasidim but sung in the voice of true believers, was a common genre. However, in Apikorsim the humor is quite vulgar. In songs such as “Kum aher du filosof” the irony is much more subtle. Ruth Rubin’s book Voices of a People has a nice section on maskilic songs (chapter 10). Rubin also prints Velvl Zbarzher’s song “Moshiakh’s tsaytn” (pp. 255 – 257) which is on the same theme as di apikorsim.
A couple of comments on the words and rhymes of Apikorsim: “Daytshn” literally means “Germans”, but in the Yiddish of the 19th century, early 20th century, it referred to the Maskilim, the Jews who were assimilating and dressing like Germans – that is, as modern Europeans.
You will also hear that in the refrain which begins “Folgts daytshn…” there is no rhyme for gikh. LSW sings sheyn. The implied rhyme should be rikh – the devil, and my mother remembers LSW singing it vet ir oyszen vi a layt or oyszen vi a rikh so i put those options in brackets. The listener would have understood the implied rhyme gikh and rikh.
Di apikorsim, di voyle-yingen es vet in zey ale trasken lingen zey veln ale tsepiket vern ven zey veln shoyfer-shel-moshiakh derhern.
The heretics, those loose fellows, Their lungs will all rattle. They will burst apart, when they hear the shofar of the messiah.
Far kol-rom vet vern gehert der rebe vet lernen toyre. Di apikorsim veln faln tsu dr’erd far shrek un far moyre.
Loudly for all, it will be heard the rebbe will teach Torah. the heretics will fall to the ground, out of fear and alarm.
Folgts datshn mekh, un verts khasidemlekh gikh. Tits un a yeyder yidishe kleyder vet ir oyszen sheyn [vi a layt] [vi a rikh]/
Listen to me Germans [assimilated Jews] and become Hasidim quickly. Each of you dress in Jewish clothes, so you will appear – beautiful [vi a layt - presentable] [vi a rikh - like a demon]
This week’s Yiddish Song of the Week features a performance of Der heyliker moshiakh by New York-based Yiddish singer Josh Waletzky, recorded at the Center for Traditional Music and Dance on January 28, 2011. The song is from Waletzky’s family repertoire (his family referred to it as “The Name Song”); Ruth Rubin collected the song from Waletzky during her fieldwork at Camp Boiberik.
Josh Waletzky
I have attached a variant of this song as found in Noyekh Prilutski‘s collection Yidishe folkslider volume one, Warsaw, 1914. Number 61 (pages 90 – 91). There is no melody given in Prilutski‘s volume, so thanks to Waltezky we have one now!
Der heyliker moshiakh is a great example of a maskilic Yiddish song (composed by Jews who were adherents of the Jewish Enlightenment movement, the Haskalah) in which the irony of the song was confusing or lost to the ‟folk‟, and in this case, to the Maskil as well, Noyekh Prilutski. See his comment on the bottom of the attached Yiddish page 91, footnote number 2, where he writes:
‟Typical: as often happens that in the most Hasidic songs, secular [‟fraye"] lines are sung at the end. Perhaps because the song was sung at Simkhes-toyre, when everyone was a little drunk?‟
So Prilutski believed that the song was Hasidic, not Maskilic (anti-Hasidic), and perhaps he had even seen it performed by Hasidim? That would not be shocking, since it was common for similar parodic anti-Hasidic songs such as this, written from the point of view of Hasidim, to be ‟misinterpreted‟ as pro-Hasidic, pro-rebbe. The classic example is Velvl Zbarzher‘s Kum aher du filosof which was recorded in a typically lyrical fashion by Theodore Bikel.
Is it mis-interpretation? ‟Reinterpretation‟ or just plain ‟interpretation‟ would be preferable. The singer, whose context and audience varies from that of the composer, gives the song a different meaning through his performance.
Waletzky clearly sings it as a parody in the way the Maskilic composer wrote it, and the song has several of the subjects of satire that the maskilim often mocked about the traditional shtetl life: the blind devotion of the hasidim to their rebbe, the fanatic anti-modern/progress attitude (e.g., mocking the popular secular dance kadril ‘quadrille’ as shmadril, which also alludes to the word for converting, shmadn), and the highlight of the song, the satirizing of Yiddish names that comprises the refrain.
Notice that in Prilutski‘s version there is no reference to shmadril but non-traditional dance is mentioned (Zey veln tantsn mit fremde yunge-layt / They will dance with young strangers).
“Der heyliker moshiakh”
“The Holy Messiah”
un az der heyliker moshiekh vet kumen vel ikh zayn der ershter af der shlakht. af di daytshn vet men zikh nemen un zey shlogn tog vi nakht. gor on pulver un on blay, koyln veln flien iber aln. un az der rebe vet nokh tsugebn a posek derbay, vi shtroy veln di daytshn faln.
And when the holy Messiah comes I will be the first into battle. We’ll set upon the Assimilators And beat them day and night. No need for powder or lead, Bullets will be flying everywhere. And the moment the Rebbe adds a verse from Scripture, The Assimilators will drop like straw.
un es vet nokh tsuhelfn zurekh un burekh, yankev, danil, zindl, grindl, khayem, smil, berl, shmerl, getzl, azril, veln firn dos gantse krentsl. keyle, beyle, yente, sose, khane, brayne, yakhne, dvose, sime, blime, pesi un rose veln tantsn dos mitsve-tentsl.
And helping out will be Zorekh and Baruch, Jacob, Daniel, Zindl, Grindl, Chaim, Samuel, Berl, Shmerl, Getsl, Azriel, The ringleaders. Keyle, Beyle, Yente, Sose, Hannah, Brayne, Yakhne, Dvose, Sime, Blume, Pesi and Rose Will dance the Mitsve Dance…
tshiri-bim-bom…
der rebe vet zayn der komendant. er vet komedirn ahin un aher. un ikh vel zayn zayn atyudant, di khsidim dos militer. un az der rebe vet onfangen fun toyre tsu shmaysn, tsu bavayzn zayne havayes, azoy veln di khsidim onhoybn tsu shisn af di drabes, af di hultayes.
The Rebbe will be the commander. He’ll issues orders this way and that. And I will be his adjutant; The Chassidim–his troops. And when the Rebbe begins thrashing them with Torah, Making his faces at them, The Chassidim immediately open fire On the freethinking prostitutes and adulterers.
And helping out will be Zorekh and Baruch, Jacob, Daniel,…
di daytshn, zey vern dokh poshet dil– zey veysn nit vos zey zoln tin. zey hobn a tants vos heyst ‘shmadril’: eyner loyft aher, un der anderer ahin. un di daytshke vos tsimblt af dem shlambil vet fayerdike kneydlekh esn; un az der rebe vet aroyfleygn zayn lape af ir, vet zi in tsimbl fargesn.
un es vet nokh tsuhelfn…
The Assimilators will simply get confused– They won’t know what to do. They have a dance called the ‘Shmadrille’: One runs this way and the other runs that way. The Lady Assimilator tsimbling* her ‘shmambourine’ Will eat hot matzo-ball ammo. And when the Rebbe lays his paws on her She’ll forget all about her tsimbl*.
And helping out will be Zorekh and Baruch, Jacob, Daniel..
*tsimbl = cimbalom/hammered dulcimer; tsimbling = to play a tsimbl (or in this case, to beat with sticks as if playing a tsimbl)
Der heyliker moshiakh in Noyekh Prilutksi‘s collection Yidishe folkslider (click to enlarge)
This is among the more well-known songs that have been posted on the Yiddish Song of the Week, but I have included it more because of Tsunye Rymer‘s heartfelt singing (as usual!), than the song itself. He was in his 80s by the time of this recording, but how he expresses the “ay-ay-ays” is a lesson in Yiddish (male) folksinging style.
This was recorded in our dining room in the early 1980s, I would guess when Rymer came over Friday night after dinner, as he often did. My mother, Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman is the woman‘s voice, and I hear my father, sister and uncle Mordkhe Schaechter there too.
According to Bob Freedman‘s database of recorded songs, particularly of LPs, only Ben Bonus and the Salomon Klezmorim have recorded the song, but it has been quite popular. You can find it with words and music in Chana and Joseph Mlotek‘s collection Pearls of Yiddish Song page 146, 147. Also printed in the earlier collections of Anna Shomer Rothenberg 1928, and Gelbart 1938.
As for the performance here: The line is usually sung „nishto keyn matses, nishto keyn vayn‟ since it‘s referring to Passover, so singing „broyt‟ – bread – is a mistake, I will leave to the Yiddish linguists among you to discuss Rymer‘s „hypercorrective‟ pronunciation of „shavous‟ and „sukes‟.
The printed versions all have „Ober khsidim‟ [Hasidim] zenen mir‟ not, as is sung here, „ober yidn zenen mir‟. Since they‘re traveling to the rebbe, Hasidim is the more obvious choice, but in our family we always sang „yidn‟. Listening to this performance, it seems that the version known by the audience sometimes overwhelms Rymer‘s version and he just adapts to our words.
Un az ez kumt der yontif peysekh
vider af s‘nay
nishto keyn broyt iz, nishto keyn vayn,
Ay,ay, ay, ay! ay, ay, ay, ay!
Sha, shtil un nisht gezorgt,
Got in himl iz a futer,
du gelien, du geborgt,
Ikh hob shoyn alts un puter.
Hay, hay, hay, hay, hay!
Vus mir zenen, zenen mir, ober yidn zenen mir,
un tsim rebn furn mir, undzer gantsn lebn.
And when the holiday Passover arrives,
once more anew:
there‘s no bread, no wine,
Ay,ay, ay ay! Ay, ay, ay ay!
Sha! Quiet! Don‘t you worry,
God in heaven is our father.
Here and there we borrow a little,
I have everything and that‘s all we need.
Hay, hay, hay, hay, hay!
What we are – we are,
But Jews are what we are
And to our Rebbe we travel
our whole life.
Un az s‘kumt der yontif shvues,
vider af s‘nay.
Nito keyn milikhiks, nito keyn grins,
Ay, ay, ay, ay! Ay, ay, ay,ay!
Sha shtil……
And when the holiday Shavous arrives -
Once more anew.
There‘s no dairy, no vegetables,
Ay, ay ay, ay! Ay, ay, ay ay!
Sha…..
Un az s‘kumt der yontif sukes,
Vider af s‘nay.
Nito keyn esrig, nito keyn liliv,
Ay, ay, ay, ay! Ay, ay, ay ay!
Sha sthil……
And when the holiday Sukes comes -
Once more anew.
There‘s no esrog, there‘s no lulav,
Ay, ay, ay, ay! Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Sha….
I have found only one other version of Tayere Toni – in the Pipe collection “Yiddish Folksongs from Galicia” edited by Meir and Dov Noy, Jerusalem, 1971 page 118-119. There the names of the lovers are Bronye and Bernard. From the Pipe version it is clear that the song is a ballad – Bernard does indeed die in the third verse, and in the fourth verse Bronye shoots herself and they are buried together in one grave. A motif much more common in non-Yiddish ballads, rare in Yiddish ones.
From Lifshe Schaechter-Widman’s shorter version, recorded in 1954 in the Bronx by song collector Leybl Kahn, a ballad-story is implied but is left hanging, and I have to wonder did Lifshe not sing the other verses because she did not know them or because they did not appeal to her? Didn’t ring true or Jewish? The fact that she doesn’t repeat any of the lines also implies that we are dealing with a ballad, a story in song; Lifshe was more inclined to repeat lines in lyric love songs than in ballads.
Though the use of German names in Tayere Toni would lead one to believe that the song is relatively new, the beautiful melody sounds very old to me. Her singing, as always, is haunting and so complex given the relative simple melody. By the way, the great folklorist I. L. Cahan (not to be confused with Leybl Kahn) “disqualified” a song that Shmuel Zanvil Pipe had collected because the character’s name in the song was Moritz. “Moritz”, wrote Cahan, could not be part of any folksong.
But today we have to respectfully disagree with Cahan (and I think Pipe wasn’t too happy about his judgement in this case either). Jews in the Galician and Bukovinan territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire had German names, and were no less “folky” because of it.
Pete Rushefsky adds:
Musically, Tayere Toni reinforces the conversation between Bernard and his beloved Toni with a subtle harmonic interplay in the key of Bb minor.
The first two lines of each stanzas are rendered in Bb minor and harmonized by Bb minor, F major and Bb minor: a simple I Minor – V Major – I Minor progression that effects a light waltz-like melody as Bernard attempts to woo Toni. Harmonically each of Bernard’s two lines stand on their own – there is a simplicity and purity to his love.
Toni’s answers in the stanza’s third and first half of the fourth lines contradict Bernard, and are voiced to resolve (incompletely) on the C of a dominant F major chord. Toni’s response requires the full duration of her two lines to resolve harmonically, and for a moment, a listener tuned to Jewish modal tendencies wonders if she might distance herself further from his sentiments with a full modulation to F-freygish (also known in cantorial literature as “Ahava Raba”, or “altered Phrygian” – F, Gb, A, Bb, C, Db, Eb).
But despite a rapidly ascending then descending movement in the last line that is frequently seen in freygish melodies, Toni does not reach down to the tell-tale subtonic Eb which would confirm F-freygish. Rather, at the end of the stanza, Toni’s cadence resolves back to the tonic Bb. Though there is complexity in her responses and desires, in the end, these two are fated to live and die together.
“Tayere Toni, kim aher tsi mir
Nem dir a beynkl, zets zikh anider lebn mir.”
“Tayerer Bernard, ikh ken nisht zitsn leybn dir.
Di mame vet araynkimen, un vet shrayen af mir”
“Dear Toni come over here to me,
Take a chair, and sit next to me.”
“Dear Bernard, I can’t sit next to you.
My mother will enter and will yell at you.”
“Tayere Toni, ikh ken dikh nisht fardarbn.
Zeyst dekh az ikh halt shoyn baym shtarbn.”
Tayerer Bernard, vest nokh vern gezint.
Tayerer Bernard, di bist mayn tayer kind.”
“Dear Toni, I can’t ruin you.
Can’t you see, that i am dying.”
“Dear Bernard, you will become well,
Dear Bernard, you are my dear child”.
Spoken Dialogue after the song:
LEYBL KAHN: Dos lid hot ir gehert fun vanen? Where did you hear this song?
LSW: Dos hob ikh gehert in Zvinyetchke. I heard this in Zvinyetchke.
LK: In der Bukovina. In Bukovina?
LSW: Yo, di Bukovina. Yes, Bukovina.
LK: To vi kumen azoyne nemen vi Toni un Bernard? So where do the name Toni and Bernard come from?
LSW: Bay undz hot men dokh daytshmerish gezingen. We sang, after all, Germanized Yiddish.
LK: Menshn fleygn hob azoyne nemen. People used to have such names?
LSW: Ye, avade. Yes, of course
Mordkhe Bauman’s performance of the song Pey luhem (“They Have Mouths”) was recorded in the Bronx by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman in the 1980s. The song is also called “Atsabeyhem kesef vezohev” (“Their Idols are Silver and Gold”) and a printed version, very similar to Bauman‘s can be found in Folks-gezangen loytn nusekh fun Chaim Kotylansky Los Angeles 1944, pages 56-57. There are several 78s of Kotylansky singing but not this song (see Richard K. Spottswood’s Ethnic Music on Records, Volume 3).
A different version on Youtube can now be viewed, performed by Dovid Vider, recorded as part of Indiana University’s Aheym Project, in Kolomey, Ukraine, May 2003.
Eventually, I will post another version I recorded with a different melody by Itzik Zucker from the region of Volhinya. He told me that the song was performed on the holiday of Simkhes-toyre, and Kotylansky comments that „The Chassidim sing it on every holiday, whenever „Hallel‟ is sung.‟ There is a tradition to sing songs that ridicule the non-Jews on Simkhes-toyre, and this is one of the more popular ones.
The song takes words from the Hallel prayer, which is in turn based on Psalm 115, and translates the lines into Yiddish to comic effect. In Bauman‘s version, Polish words are often humorously used to describe the body parts of the non-Jewish gods. For example: the Polish word for blind person to refer to blind eyes „szlepez‟; the Polish word for ears „uchos‟ to refer to their deaf ears.
Thanks to Prof. Dov-Ber Kerler who sent me a link to a great discussion list in Yiddish that discusses various amazing versions of this song (for example: „their gods have a throat like a giraffe‟). Scroll down and read the whole discussion!
One important word in Bauman‘s version remains unclear to me. Kharboyne seems to indicate Harbonah of the Megillah. Why he is referred to in this context – the idol of the non-Jews – is unclear. David Braun believes it is because Kharboyne/Harbonah is a eunuch and therefore impotent.
In the list-serve discussion, one version uses Pondrik (a nickname for Jesus) instead and of course this makes more sense to me. Any opinions on this would be helpful.
Thanks to Michael Alpert for helping with the Polish words.
Pey luhem veloy yedaberu
A piskatsh ot er un er ken nisht redn.
Okh un vey iz tsu zey!
A shtime Kharboyne hobn zey.
A piskatsh ot er, un er redt nisht
Ober eleheynu shebashomayim,
ober indzer got in himl.
Kol asher khufets usu, usu
Vus er vil tit er, tit er.
Vus er vil, tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
Vus er vil tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
„They have mouths but cannot speak‟ (Hebrew)
A foul mouth (piskacz=Polish) he has and cannot speak.
Woe is to them!
A mute Kharboyne they have.
A foul mouth he has and cannot speak.
But our God in heaven (Hebrew)
But our God in heaven
Can do whatever he wills (Hebrew)
Whatever he wants, he does,
Whomever he wants – he gives.
Eynayim luhem, veloy yiru
Shlepes hot un er ken nisht zeyn.
Okh un vey iz tsu zey,
A blinde Khorboyne hobn zey,
Shlepes ot er, un er zeyt nisht.
A piskatsh ot er, un er redt nisht.
Ober eleheynu shebashomayim,
ober indzer got in himl.
Kol asher khufets usu, usu
Vus er vil tit er, tit er.
Vus er vil, tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
Vus er vil tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
„They have eyes but cannot see‟ (Hebrew)
Blind eyes (szlepes = Polish) he has and cannot see.
Woe is to them!
A blind Kharboyne they have.
Blind eyes he has but cannot see,
A foul mouth he has but cannot speak,
But our God in heaven (Hebrew)
But our God in heaven
Can do whatever he wills (Hebrew)
Whatever he wants, he does,
Whomever he wants – he gives.
Oznayim luhem, veloy yishmau
Ukhes ot er un er ken nisht hern.
Okh un vey iz tsu zey
A toybe Kharboyne hobn zey.
Ukhes ot er un hert nisht,
shlepes ot er un er zeyt nisht
a piskatsh ot er un er redt nisht
Ober eleheynu shebashomayim,
ober indzer got in himl.
Kol asher khofets usu, usu
Vus er vil tit er, tit er.
Vus er vil, tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
Vus er vil tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
„They have ears but cannot hear‟ (Hebrew)
Ears (uchos = Polish) he has but cannot hear.
Woe is to them!
A deaf Kharboyne they have.
Ears he has and cannot hear,
Blind eyes he has and cannot see,
A foul mouth he has and cannot speak
But our God in heaven (Hebrew)
But our God in heaven
Can do whatever he wills (Hebrew)
Whatever he wants, he does,
Whomever he wants – he gives.
Af luhem veloy yerikhun
a nonye ot er un er ken nisht shmekhn
okh un vey iz tsu zey
a farshtopte Kharboyne hobn zey.
A nonye ot er, un er shmekt nisht
Ukhes ot er un hert nisht,
shlepes ot er un er zeyt nisht
a piskatsh ot er un er redt nisht
Ober eleheynu shebashomayim,
ober indzer got in himl.
Kol asher khofets usu, usu
Vus er vil tit er, tit er.
Vus er vil, tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
Vus er vil tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
„They have a nose but cannot smell‟ (Hebrew)
A funny nose/shnoz (nonye) he‘s got, but cannot smell.
Woe is to them!
A stuffed up Kharboyne they have.
A shnoz he has, but cannot smell.
Ears he has and cannot hear,
Blind eyes he has and cannot see.
A foul mouth he has and cannot speak.
But our God in heaven (Hebrew)
But our God in heaven
Can do whatever he wills (Hebrew)
Whatever he wants, he does,
Whomever he wants – he gives.
Yedeyhem veloy yemishun
Lapes ot un er ken nisht tapn
okh un vey iz tsu zey
a kalikevate Kharboyne hobn zey
Lapes ot er un er tapt nsiht,
A nonye ot er un er shmekt nisht,
Ukhes ot er un hert nisht,
shlepes ot er un er zeyt nisht
a piskatsh ot er un er redt nisht
Ober eleheynu shebashomayim,
ober indzer got in himl.
Kol asher khofets usu, usu
Vus er vil tit er, tit er.
Vus er vil, tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
Vus er vil tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
„Hands he has, but cannot touch‟ (Hebrew)
Paws he has, but cannot touch.
Woe is to them!
A crippled Kharboyne they have.
Paws he has but cannot touch
A shnoz he has, but cannot smell.
Ears he has and cannot hear,
Blind eyes he has and cannot see.
A foul mouth he has and cannot speak.
But our God in heaven (Hebrew)
But our God in heaven
Can do whatever he wills (Hebrew)
Whatever he wants, he does,
Whomever he wants – he gives.
Ragleyhem veloy yehaleykhu
lopetes ot er un er ken nisht geyn.
Okh un vey iz tsu zey,
A lume Kharboyne hobn zey.
Lopetes ot er un er geyt nisht
Lapes ot er un er tapt nisht,
A nonye ot er un er shmekt nisht,
Ukhes ot er un hert nisht,
shlepes ot er un er zeyt nisht
a piskatsh ot er un er redt nisht
Ober eleheynu shebashomayim,
[ober indzer got in himl.]
Kol asher khofets usu, usu
Vus er vil tit er, tit er.
Vus er vil, tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
Vus er vil tit er, veymen er vil, gibt er.
„They have feet but cannot walk‟ (Hebrew)
Funny legs (literally = shovels) he has and cannot walk.
Woe is to them!
A lame Kharboyne they have.
Shovels he has and cannot walk,,
Paws he has and cannot touch
A shnoz he has, and cannot smell.
Ears he has and cannot hear,
Blind eyes he has and cannot see.
A foul mouth he has and cannot speak.
But our God in heaven (Hebrew)
But our God in heaven
Can do whatever he wills (Hebrew)
Whatever he wants, he does,
Whomever he wants – he gives.
The song Drayfusl mayn kind is a rare Yiddish song about the „Dreyfus Affair‟: the trial and tribulations of Captain Alfred Dreyfus in France, convicted of treason in 1894.
Captain Alfred Dreyfus
I remember, from a taped interview, that the singer Lifshe Schaechter-Widman (LSW) learned this song from a street singer/organ grinder in her home town of Zvinyetchke, Bukovina. Perhaps this explains why she sings the song at a faster pace than she usually does with the other songs in her repertory.
The song is a little gem, for though the song comments on a current event of the times, it is not a broadside by any means, but a lullaby, transforming Captain Dreyfus into a child in the crib. He comes to represent all vulnerable Jewish children, and by extension the entire suffering Jewish people.
In mayne oyern tit mir klingen,
Hay-da lu lu lu
Vus mayn mame fleyg mir zingen
bay mayn vigele.
In my ears it still rings,
Ay- li lu lu lu
What my mother used to sing me,
At my crib.
Hay-li- la-lu la,
Di gantse velt zingt‘ekh dos lidele.
Hob kayn moyre Dreyfusl mayn kind,
Farges nisht az di bist a yidele.
Hay¨ de la lu¨ lu
The whole world is singing this song.
Fear not my dear Dreyfus,
Don‘t forget that you are a Jew.
Vus in Frankraykh hot (itst?) pasirt
Veyst a yeder gants git.
Men hot farurteylt kapitan Drayfus
Nor derfar vayl er iz a yid.
What happened in France
Everyone knows too well.
Captain Dreyfus was convicted,
Only because he is a Jew.
Hay-li-la-li-la
Di gantse velt zingt‘ekh dos lidele.
Hob keyn moyre Drayfusl mayn kind,
Farges nisht az du bist a yidele.
Hay-li-la-lu-la
The whole world is singing this song.
Fear not Dreyfus my child,
Don‘t forget that you are a Jew.
Der blinder (The Blind Man), about a blind beggar, was written by the Yiddish poet Mani Leib (1884-1953, immigrated to the U.S. in 1905) and is included in his volume Lider, NY, 1918. p. 52. The poem is untitled in the original publication.
The poem was set to music by Pinchos Yasinowsky (or Jassinowsky, 1886-1954, immigrated to the U.S. in 1917), who also composed the music for “Mayn shifl” previously posted on Yiddish Song of the Week.
I recorded Isaac “Tsunye” Rymer singing it in our living room in the Bronx in the 1980s, introducing it as a song by Mani Leib. He always sang unaccompanied in this slow, heartfelt way. He was in already in his nineties when he sang this.
Though it is included in at least two Yiddish song collections where it is given two different titles 1) “Der blinder” in Zing mit mir, NY, the 1945 edition, compiled by Mikhl Gelbart 2) “In di vign” in Yiddish Poets in Song – Yidishe dikhter in gezang, NY 1966, edited by Mordecai Yardeini, I have yet to find a recording of the song.
Attached are scans of the song from Yiddish Poets in Song, which include photos of Leib and Yasinowsky. An additional musical arrangement is in the Yardeini book but is not attached.
The poem text plays with the many uses and meaning of “tsu” (to) in Yiddish. In the transcription in Yiddish Poets the line reads „Un baym toyer shloft der blinder‟ (“and at the gate the blind man sleeps”), but in the 1918 collection it reads (and Rymer sings) – „ ligt der blinder‟ (“the blind man lies”), leaving it open whether he is alive or not.
In the cradles, children cry,
mothers rock them along;
Liulinke, lui, lui
Luilinke, lui, lul.
With a sack goes the blind man,
Drags his rest with him;
The blind man knocks in a gate,
But the gate is shut.
Cries the blind man
in his sadness,
God, you at least should hear me,
Liulinke, liu-liu
And at the gate, lies the blind man
The night covers him over.
In the cradles, children cry
mothers rock them along.
Liulinke, liu, liu
Llulinke, liu, liu.
