“Got fin Avrum” Performed by Matele (Margaret) Friedman

Got fin Avrum/God of Abraham (a woman’s prayer).
Version as remembered by Matele (Margaret) Friedman.
Recorded by Mark David in Los Angeles, January 1, 2020. Transcribed by Eliezer Niborski.

Matele Friedman

Got fin Avrum

Got fin Avrum, fin Yitskhok, fin Yankev,
bahit dayn lib folk Yisroyl.
Zibn teyg in ale teyg zoln undz voyl bakimen,
Furs (?) tsu gevin, tse leybn, tse oysher, tse mazl, tse brukhe,
tse parnuse.

God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
Protect your dear people of Israel.
For seven days and all the days may we only know good:
For prosperity, life, wealth, good fortune, blessing and livelihood.

Reboyne-shel-oylem,
tsu susen, tsu simkhe, tse yeshies toyves, tse psires toyves,
Tsim alem gitn un tsu gevint[?].
Tsu gevin, tsu gevin, tsu lange lebetug [=lebnstug?]
hot der liber her Got fil farmugt.[?]

Dear God,
for joy, celebration, salvation, good tidings,
For all things good and prosperity
for prosperity, for prosperity for all of our lives.
So does our dear God possess.

Nemt der liber her Got dem bekher in zayn rekhter hant
Un makht a brukhe ibern gantsn land.
Makht a brukhe gur zhe hoykh
Az kol-yisruls kinder zoln zhe zogn umeyn oykh.

So our dear God takes the goblet in his right hand
And makes a blessing over the whole land.
Says a blessing very loudly
So that all of Israel’s children will say “Amen” too.

Umeyn, veumeyn, s’zol shoyn vern,
zol men shoyn oysgelayzt vern,
Bar [gor?] gikh in dem yor.

Amen, and amen, may we soon hear.
How we will be redeemed.
Soon in this very year.

Shma kolayni – ikh shray tsu dir,
lebediker Got, nu, helf zhe mir,
Ales bayz zol fin indz avekgeyn.

Listen to our voice – I shout to you
The living God, help me,
so that all bad things should go away.

Elye hanuvi, Elye hanuvi
zol bayn undz in indzer
hoyz aybik zayn,
Tse deym lekhtikn hoyz.
Me zol hofn
az tir un toyer zoln shtayn aybik ofn.

Elijah the prophet, Elijah the prophet
May he be in our house.
To the brilliant house,
May we hope
That door and gate should always stay open.

Ofn, ofn zoln shtayn,
Arayn, arayn zoln mir gayn.
Arayn, arayn zoln mir tritn [treytn]
mir zoln hubn dem lekhtikn Got [= hofn tsum likhtikn Got?]
A gite vokh,
A gezinte vokh,
A mazldike vokh.
A frayerdike vokh. [fraydike?]
A gebentshte vokh.
Mir zoln hubn a git mazl oysgebeytn.

Open, open may it stay,
Enter, enter may we go.
Enter, enter may we step.
May we have the brilliant God.
A good week
A healthy week
A happy week
A blessed week
May our prayers for a good fortune be accepted.

גאָט פֿון אַבֿרהם

נוסח פֿון מאַטעלע פֿרידמאַן
רעקאָרדירט פֿון מאיר דוד, לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס
טראַנסקריבירט פֿון אליעזר ניבאָרסקי

,גאָט פֿון אַבֿרהם, פֿון יצחק, פֿון יעקבֿ
.באַהיט דײַן ליב פֿאָלק ישׂראל
.זיבן טעג און אַלע טעג זאָלן אונדז ווויל באַקומען
.פֿורס [?] צו געווין, צו לעבן, צו עושר, צו מזל, צו ברכה, צו פּרנסה

,רבונו־של־עולם
,צו שׂשׂון, צו שׂימחה, צו ישועות־טובֿות, צו בשׂורות־טובֿות
.צום אַלעם גוטן און צו געווינט
צו געווין, צו געווין, צו לאַנגע לעבעטאָג  [= לעבנסטאָג?]
.האָט דער ליבער הער גאָט פֿיל פֿאַרמאָגט

נעמט דער ליבער הער גאָט דעם בעכער אין זײַן רעכטער האַנט
.און מאַכט אַ ברכה איבערן גאַנצן לאַנד
מאַכט אַ ברכה גאָר זשע הויך
.אַז כּל־ישׂראלס קינדער זאָלן זשע זאָגן אָמן אויך

,אָמן־ואָמן
,ס׳זאָל שוין ווערן, זאָל מען שוין אויסגעלייזט ווערן
,באַר [גאָר?] גיך אין דעם יאָר

,שמע קולנו — איך שרײַ צו דיר
,לעבעדיקער גאָט, נו העלף זשע מיר
,אַלעס בייז זאָל פֿון אונדז אַוועקגיין

,אליה הנבֿיא
,אליה הנבֿיא זאָל בײַן אונדז אין אונדזער הויז אייביק זײַן
.צו דעם ליכטיקן הויז
מע זאָל האָפֿן
,אַז טיר און טויער זאָלן שטיין אייביק אָפֿן

,אָפֿן, אָפֿן [זאָלן] זיי שטיין
,אַרײַן, אַרײַן זאָלן מיר גיין
,אַרײַן, אַרײַן זאָלן מיר טרעטן
מיר זאָלן האָבן דעם ליכטיקן גאָט.    [= האָפֿן צום ליכטיקן גאָט ?]
,אַ גוטע וואָך
,אַ געזונטע וואָך
,אַ מזלדיקע וואָך
,אַ פֿריידיקע וואָך
,אַ געבענטשטע וואָך
.מיר זאָלן האָבן אַ גוט מזל אויסגעבעטן

Commentary by Itzik Gottesman

This is the second “Got fun/fin Avrom/Avrum”, a woman’s prayer said at the end of the Sabbath, that we have posted. It is also the second post on this blog of the singer Matele Friedman (born in 1927, in Kimyat, Czechoslovakia, now Velikiye Komyaty, Ukraine), who died in Los Angeles, February 2022. You can hear more of her songs in Yiddish at the website of Mark David’s radio program The Yiddish Voice/Dos Yidishe Kol.  

Mark David who recorded Matele Friedman in LA wrote the following after her passing:

She was, like my aunt Hedy and my mom, a survivor of Auschwitz from the Carpathians, deported in 1944 under the Hungarians.  But she lived a very different life compared to my mother after the war. She did not spend a few years in a DP camp in Germany or elsewhere in Western Europe after the war, but instead went back to the home area. She was a lot more frum, and practiced, surprisingly, orthodox Judaism under the Soviets when “our” area became part of Ukrainian SSR (Soviet Union).  (She had gone back after the war, gotten married, and started her family there.) She moved to the US in the 1970’s with her two young daughters, already teen-agers or a maybe a bit older.

In Noyekh Prilutski’s first collection of Yiddish folksongs Yidishe folkslider, 1912, which included religious and holiday songs, he printed 23 versions of this prayer. Here is the link to the first of the variations, song number 8.

Because the “Got fun Avrum” prayer was transmitted orally, the daughters often learned the prayer from their mothers as just sounds, not thinking what the words were or meant to be. As a result, a few words in this version cannot be understood and there are more question marks in the transcription in this post than we would ordinarily like. Eliezer Niborski did a wonderful job of transcribing Matele’s “Got fin Avrum” as best as possible. Corrections or improvements are welcome from those with sharper hearing. There are at least two more recordings of “Got fun Avrom” that we hope to post in the future. The “Got fun Avrom” prayer is the most widespread and among the oldest examples still extant of Yiddish woman’s folk poetry. A “standard” version can be found in the Art Scroll siddur and a scan is attached.

Thanks to Mark David, Eliezer Niborski, Simon Neuberg, Claudia Rosenzweig and David Braun.

Below: Art Scroll version of “Got fun Avrom”.

About Lyricist Harry Bennett (Boens) by Michael Bennett

I never met my paternal grandfather Harry Boens (pictured left, b. March 17, 1891, Odessa; d. August 9, 1943, Los Angeles), and practically nothing about him was revealed to my brother and me. Innocent childhood questions about family history were met with stoicism and the subject quickly changed. Eventually, I did learn quite a bit about Harry through discovery of hidden documentation and much research. The journey to those revelations began in 2004, weeks before my father’s death in the hospital.

Harry Boens/Bennett. Image courtesy of Michael Bennett; all rights reserved.

Originally admitted for a respiratory virus, my father had become infected with multiple strains of hospital-spread bacteria. Months into his illness, through an internet search for Harry Boens, I discovered a piece of Yiddish sheet music entitled Di Shpanishe cholera (The Spanish Influenza) for sale. The cover sheet featured a photograph of the composer Nathan Hollandar and the lyricist Harry Boens. My father’s younger brother Philip had years earlier told me that Harry had changed the family name from Boens to Bennett and shared with me an old, color-dyed photograph of Harry and my father taken in 1933. From that photograph I saw a strong resemblance to the Harry Boens featured on the cover of Di Shpanishe cholera. I purchased the sheet music, printed out a copy of the title page, and brought it to my father in the hospital for verification. “Absolutely,” my father responded when I asked if the picture was that of his father, and then he added, “I never knew about this,” before angrily handing back the picture. Nothing further was discussed about the topic. However, the fact that my father was dying from infectious diseases struck me as tragically ironic in light of the subject of Harry’s song and my discovery of it at that heart-wrenching time.

Image courtesy of Michael Bennett; all rights reserved.

My father’s last request to me before he passed on June 13, 2004, was to write a book about his life. And so began years-long research into my father’s life, which of course included an in-depth look into Harry Boens, including the circumstances of his writing and co-publishing Di Shpanishe cholera. I fulfilled my father’s charge and self-published My Father: an American Story of Courage, Shattered Dreams, and Enduring Love in 2011.

Harry Boens immigrated to America in 1907. In about 1913 he married a Bessarabian émigré named Dora Ladyzhensky, and settled into a 3-room tenement apartment in New York’s Lower East Side. Harry worked as a waiter and accordionist in a subterranean diner on the corner of Rivington and Allen Streets in the same neighborhood. Dora worked as a seamstress in a sweatshop. Their first child, Clara, was born in 1914, their second, Irving (who would become my father) in 1915. Three months after Irving’s birth, Harry left his family. He returned in early 1917 and later that year Dora gave birth to the couple’s third child, Philip. Shortly after Philip’s birth, Harry left his family again. He returned in August 1920, but the reconciliation lasted only six weeks. This time he left his family for good.

The problem of male abandonment was common amongst Russian immigrants at that time—so common that Jewish organizations formed the National Desertion Bureau (NDB). The NDB served as a Jewish FBI whose goal was to locate AWOL husbands and fathers and force them to reconcile with their spouses, or at least support their families. Dora reported Harry to the NDB after his first desertion, and it was at that time that Harry began to pursue a career in music. He partnered with Nathan Hollandar who had a small recording studio where would-be immigrant artists could realize their dreams. The two developed a strong friendship and collaborated on several musical compositions. When the 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic emerged, Harry aptly wrote the lyrics to Di Shpanishe Cholera; Nathan composed the music. They filed copyright for the piece in 1919, when Harry was twenty-eight years old.

But Harry’s musical career did not generate income. Instead, he moved to Brooklyn, partnered in a liquor store business and bought an automobile. Dora, meanwhile, languished on the Lower East Side. The children eventually were placed in foster homes and ultimately became inmates of the Hebrew Orphan Asylum (HOA) due to Dora’s inability to care for them. My father was not yet six years old at the time and he remained in HOA for the next twelve years. Harry’s liquor store business folded with the passing of the Prohibition amendment. Harry then left New York and settled in Los Angeles (a common destination in those days for wayward husbands and fathers like Harry). His surname now Bennett, Harry married a wealthy California socialite who was decades his senior. He used her money to start a Yiddish newspaper, buy a gas station, and build a small real estate empire. He returned to New York to visit his children and financially supported them in the HOA. When his children reached the age of liberation from orphanage, Harry invited them to join him in California.

Spurred by his wealthy father’s promises of a college education and membership in an exclusive beach club, in 1933 my father eagerly boarded a steam ship headed for the California coast. Harry waited for him in his legendary Stutz automobile. Harry’s promises of a new life for his son never materialized, and he reneged on his commitment to pay for college tuition. Instead, Harry wanted his son to work for him managing his businesses. My father grew increasingly resentful, and eventually sued Harry for past child support and college tuition. Harry disinherited his son. After my father was drafted in to the United States Army and shipped overseas, Harry reinstated him into his will. Harry Boens died in 1943 at the age of fifty-two; his early demise likely brought about by his five-and-half-pack-a-day cigarette habit. My father’s angry reaction to seeing Harry’s picture on the cover of Di Spanishe Cholera in 2004 was certainly understandable in light of all that I later discovered. However, I believe my father reconciled those emotions when he said to me days before his passing, “I don’t hate anybody.” I too reserve judgement of my grandfather in favor of understanding him in the context of his times and circumstances.

In 2010, while completing the book about my father, I had a desire to hear what my grandfather’s song actually sounded like. So I asked longtime family friend Cantor Sam Weiss—an accomplished singer, musician, and specialist in Yiddish music—if he would get Di Spanishe Cholera recorded for me. Cantor Weiss obliged in short order by recording it himself, and sent me the MP3 file that you hear on this page. Fast-forward to 2020: During this time of the COVID-19 pandemic, in a strange sort of way, the words and music of Di Spanishe Cholera provide some comfort in knowing that our ancestors—in fact the entire world—went through a similar experience. For that I thank the grandfather whom I never knew.

“Ikh bin geboyrn simkhes pirem” Performed by Matele Friedman

Ikh bin geboyrn simkhes pirem/ I Was Born During the Celebration of Purim
Sung by Matele Friedman, recording by Mark David.
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman

This week’s song was contributed by Mark David, director of the long running Boston Yiddish radio show Dos yidishe kol. He writes about the singer:

Margaret (Matele) Friedman was born in 1927, in the village Groys-Kinyat (גרויס-קיניאַט), now Великі Ком’яти (Velyki Kom’yaty), Carpathian mountains, Ukraine. She was deported to Auschwitz with her family from the Munkacs (Hungary) ghetto in spring 1944. She learned her repertoire as a child before the Holocaust. Friedman currently lives in Los Angeles.

Matele Friedman (photo: Mark David)

The song Ikh bin geboyrn simkhes pirem was written and composed by her musical family.

An interview with her in Yiddish in which she tells of her life and sings this song and others was broadcast on January 20, 2020 on my Boston Yiddish podcast Yiddish Voice/Dos yidishe kol (click here to listen). The interview with Friedman begins at 10:45 minutes. She sings Ikh bin geboyrn at 28:54. Please note that the first time she sings the refrain she accidentally repeats a line. This is corrected in the next two refrains.

Musician and scholar Hankus Netsky has produced several concerts based on the song repertoire of Moyshe Hollander, Friedman’s cousin.

Thanks for help with this week’s post to Martele Friedman, Mark David, David Braun, Janina Wurbs and Steffen Krogh. – Itzik Gottesman

Some transcription notes:
“ey” = “a” as in made.
“ay” = “i” as in “nine”
“ow” = “o” as in “no”

As usual in this blog, the transcription reflects the singer’s dialect. The lyrics written in Yiddish are in standard “YIVO” Yiddish.

Kh’bin geboryn simkhes-pirem [Tomer her ikh muzik shpiln]

VERSE ONE

Kh’bin geboyrn simkhes-pirem,
freylekh bin ikh derfar.
Ikh es in trink in tants in shpring
in trowerik zayn zogar.

Es ken zayn a shnay.
Ikh tants in shray “hura!”
Tomer her ikh muzik shpiln
miz ikh tantsn glaykh.

REFRAIN

Tomer her ikh muzik shpiln
Kik ikh of kayn zakh.
Kowm hob ikh nor muzik derhert
kik ikh of kayn zakh.

Es geyt mir ariber a growl in mayn kerper.
Mayne nervn vern tseglit.
Akh krig di hits in tants in shvits
in her di muzik shpiln…
Ram-ta-ra-ra…la-la

VERSE TWO

Akh kim arayn tsu ayn razirer
oprazirn mikh.
Er zetst mikh anider of deym benkl
un zayft mikh ayn gants gikh.

Der razirer haybt mikh un tsi razirn
her ikh vi di muzik shpilt.
Ikh hayb un tsi tantsn of deym benkl
A shnit hob ikh derfilt.

Der razirer kikt mikh un.
Er vayst nisht vus tsi tun.
Er freygt mikh glaykh “Vus iz mit aykh?”
Zug ikh, dus iz mayn shiguen.

REFRAIN

Tomer her ikh muzik shpiln
Muz ikh tantsn glaykh.
Kowm hob ikh nor muzik derhert
kik ikh of kayn zakh.

Es geyt mir ariber a growl in mayn kerper.
Mayne nervn vern tseglit.
Akh krig di hits in tants in shvits
in her di muzik shpiln…
Ram-ta-ra-ra…la-la

VERSE THREE

Mayn shviger, zol lebn, i’ mir geshtorbn.
Nekhtn vert a vokh.
Gegangen bin ikh of der levaye,
a klug of deym brokh.

Balayt hob ikh mayn toyte shviger
biz tsi der royter brik.
Plitsling her ikh dort shpiln
a freylekh, listik shtik.

Herts vus s’iz gesheyn.
Ikh tants in shray hura!
Di levaye in gantsn haybt un tsi tantsn
gib ikh ayn geshray!

REFRAIN

Tomer her ikh muzik shpiln
Muz ikh tantsn glaykh.
Kowm hob ikh nor muzik derhert
kik ikh of kayn zakh.

Es geyt mir ariber a growl in mayn kerper.
Mayne nervn vern tseglit.
Akh krig di hits in tants in shvits
in her di muzik shpiln…
Ram-ta-ra-ra…la-la

TRANSLATION

I Was Born During The Celebration of Purim

VERSE ONE

I was born during the celebration of Purim;
therefore I am so happy.
I eat and drink and dance and jump,
and am even sad.

Even if it snowed
I would dance and yell “hurrah!”
If I should hear music playing
I must dance right away.

REFRAIN

If I should hear music playing
I don’t look at anything else.
As soon as I hear the music,
I don’t look at anything else.

A shudder goes through my body.
My nerves become red hot.
I get fever and dance and sweat
and hear the music playing…
Ram-ta-ra-ra…la-la

VERSE TWO

I go into a barber
for a shave.
He sits me down on the chair
and lathers me up quite fast.

The barber starts to shave me,
when I hear the music playing.
I start to dance on the chair
and felt a sudden cut.

The barber looks at me.
He knows not what to do,
He asks me “What”s with you?”
I say, this is my craziness.

REFRAIN

If I should hear music playing
I must dance straight away.
As soon as I hear the music
I don’t look at anything else.

A shudder goes through my body.
My nerves become red hot.
I get fever and dance and sweat
and hear the music playing…
Ram-ta-ra-ra…la-la

VERSE THREE

My mother-in-law, may she live, has died.
It happened eight days ago.
I went to the funeral.
I lament such a tragedy.

I accompanied my dead mother-in-law
up to the red bridge.
Suddenly I hear there playing
a joyous, merry tune.

Listen to what happened:
I dance and yell “hurrah!”
The entire funeral starts to dance,
so I cry out:

REFRAIN

If I should hear music playing
I must dance straight away.
As soon as I hear the music
I don’t look at anything else.

A shudder goes through my body.
My nerves become red hot.
I get fever and dance and sweat
and hear the music playing…
Ram-ta-ra-ra…la-la