Ekh in mayn lyubitshke/I and My Darling Sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman [LSW], Recorded by Leybl Kahn, NYC 1954
Painting by Yosl Bergner (1920-2017) “The Wedding”
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
This song has the same melody as the folksong “Hot zikh mir di zip tsezipt” recorded by Ruth Rubin and can be heard as a field recording sung by her in the Ruth Rubin Archive at YIVO.
The melody and text of “Hot zikh mir di zip tsezipt” is printed on p. 94, in the collection Yiddish Folksongs from the Ruth Rubin Archive. Scans of those pages are attached.
The melody also begins the “Rumshinsky Bulgar” recorded by a number of klezmer groups including Marilyn Lerner on her recording “Romanian Fantasy”
LSW’s daughter Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman who heard the song from LSW many times, typed out the words in the 1970s and moved the first fragmented verse of LSW to the last verse. I suggest any singer of this song follow this change which makes sense logically: the couple are married at the end
Thanks to Ruth Rubin Archive at YIVO, Christina Crowder, Josh Horowitz, Joel Rubin, Martin Schwartz and many others who pointed out similar variants.
Ekh in mayn lyubitshke/My Darling and I [Ikh vel zayn dayn ]…tabele. [This should be the last verse not the first] Gliklekh veln mir beyde zan. Az ekh vel zayn dayn vabele un di vest zayn mayn tayerer man
[I will be your dear] dove. How happy we will be, When I am you dear wife And you will be my dear husband.
Ikh un mayn lyubitshke; mayn mame in der mit. Ikh vil mayn lyubitstshke. Mayn mame vil zi nit.
I and my sweetheart; my mother in the middle. I want my sweetheart My mother does not.
Her ikh nisht oys mayn mames reyd Un nem mir mayn lyubitshke Vi’zoy zi shteyt un geyt.
I do not heed what my mother says. And I take my sweetheart Just as she is.
Vayl gelt iz dokh kaylekhik Un gelt geyt avek. Nem ikh mir mayn lyubitshke Un kh’fur mit ir avek.
Because money is round And money rolls away. So I take my sweetheart And go away with her.
Ekh fur mit ir avek biz keyn odes. Shtel mit ir a khipe s’gedoyert a mis-les
I go away with her All the way to Odessa. I stand under the khupe [wedding canopy] with her in less than a day.
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.
Me geyt shoyn tsi der khipe / They’re Already Walking to the Khupe!
Sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman, recorded by Leybl Kahn 1954 NYC.
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
Though Lifshe Schaechter Widman (LSW) introduces the song by saying it used to be sung on the way to the khupe (wedding canopy), it is a song mocking the wedding, not a part of the ceremony by any means.
Image of a Wedding Procession by Isaak Ashknaziy, 1893
The melody to this song was probably inspired by the klezmer tune known as the “Odesser Bulgar” found in Kammen collection “Dance Folio No.1 #18. (Thanks to Michael Alpert for pointing this out). Here is a link to the Alexandria Kleztet from the D.C. area and their version of the Odesser Bulgar:
In addition to LSW’s, two other texts to this song can be found in the Shmuel Zanvel Pipe song collection Folklore Research Centre Studies, Volume 2, Jerusalem, 1971, (edited by Meir and Dov Noy). They have been scanned and attached. The first version is in the body of the text and includes the melody. The second is in the end notes and includes different words and a second section of the melody as Meir Noy, also a Galitsyaner from Kolomyia (Yid = Kolomey) remembered it. LSW’s melody also has a second section or the begining of one.
The image of the fiddle “speaking” at the wedding (in essence warning the young couple) reminds one of the Itzik Manger poem “Der badkhn”, music by Henekh Kon.
Nor vos zogt der fidl, zog fidele zog!
¨Di sheynkayt iz sheyn, nor sheynkeyt fargeyt.¨
Azoy zogt der fidl un vos zogt di fleyt?
What does the fiddle say, tell us fiddle!”
“Beauty is nice, but beauty fades.”
So says the fiddle and what says the flute?
The only word in LSW’s version that is still not clear is “sekl” or “seke”; a word not found in the Yiddish dictionaries but “seke” does also appear in the second version in the notes of the Pipe collection. Michael Alpert suggests it could be a klezmer term for the sekund; the rhythmic and harmonic fiddle in klezmer music.
The word “opgeklogt”, pronounced by LSW as “u’geklugt” is open to interpretation, but I believe she means “good riddance, the parents have suffered enough”. In Pipe’s versions the line is “A yingl hot a meydl ongeklogt” which has a completely different meaning, but also open to interpretation.
Special thanks for helping with the blog post this week: Eliezer Niborski who transcribed LSW’s version, Michael Alpert, Josh Waletzky, Mark Slobin, Pete Rushefsky.
TRANSLITERATION AND TRANSLATION
LSW speaks: “A lid vus me fleyg zingen az me geyt tsi der khipe in Galitsye, in Bukovina.”
A song that used to be sung on the way to the khupe [marriage canopy] in Galicia and Bukovina.
[Un] Me geyt shoyn tsi der khipe, me geyt!
Me trasket un me fliasket, s’iz a freyd!
Herts nor vus der fidl zugt:
“A bukher mit a moyd u’geklugt” [opgeklugt]
[And] They’s already walking to the khupe!
People are banging and celebrating, what a joy!
Listen to what the fiddle says:
“Good riddance to the bride and groom”
Un dort der bas mit der sekl (seke?):
Niech będzie na długo i na wieki’ [Polish]
And there the bass and the sekund (fiddle)
[Polish]: May it be for long and forever.
Un aykh makhuteyniste – git-morgn!
Ir hot shoyn frishe zorgn:
Me bayt di rayneshlekh af kronen.
Me zikht a voynung vi tse voynen.
And you my mother-in-law – good morning!
You have fresh worries:
You have to exchange the Rhenish for Kronen [currency]
and find a place to live.
REPEAT FIRST VERSE
Instrumental klezmer version of the melody found in J. & J. Kammenś collection Dance Folio No.1, #18:
Version found in Shmuel Zanvel Pipeś song collection Folklore Research Centre Studies, Volme 2, Jerusalem, 1971, (edited by Meir and Dov Noy):
Der Galitsianer caballero / The Caballero from Galicia Performance by Frahdl Post, music: Frank Crumit, Yiddish lyrics: Louis Markowitz
Recorded by Wolf Younin and Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Bronx 1975.
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
And now for something completely different…
In addition to knowing many old folksongs, Frahdl Post was an active performer who sang popular novelty and Yiddish theater songs. You can hear how much she enjoys singing one of those parodic, comic songs in this week’s blogpost. At one point in the recording, when she sings “mosquito” you can hear the interviewer Wolf Younin get very embarrassed by the cheeky words.
Der Galitsianer caballero aka Der Galicianer cavallero is a song first recorded by actor and singer Pesach Burstein (Paul Burstein, 1896 – 1986) on a 78 rpm record in 1929. Here is an mp3 of that recording (thanks to Lorin Sklamberg and the YIVO Sound archives):
This song is a parody of the novelty song of 1928 written and sung by vaudevillian Frank Crumit – A Gay Caballero. “Caballero” in Spanish means “a gentleman,” while in the Southwest US it is also used to mean a “horseman.”
The Yiddish lyricist is Louis Markowitz who often wrote lyrics for Burstein and is also often credited as composer. Other Yiddish “Spanish” parodies by Markowitz for the Bursteins include Yiddish versions of “Quanta Lo Gusta” and “Mama Yo Quiero”. He also composed many Yiddish parodies for Banner records and Miriam Kressyn and Seymour Rechzeit and is certainly worthy of a more in-depth study as the king of Yiddish parody songs. According to a1951 Billboard article Der Galitsianer caballero was his first Yiddish parody. Henry Carrey who submitted the Frahdl Post recordings and is her grandson, transcribed the original Pesach Burstein version of 1929. We are attaching that transcription which should be consulted when listening to the field recording since Post sings some lines differently and some words are difficult to understand.
One of our favorite Yiddish caballeros
We have transcribed Post’s version and translated it and written it out in Yiddish as we always do. There is humorous wordplay in the Yiddish which we did not seriously attempt to duplicate in the translation.
Note: “Slek” is American/British Yiddish for the time when there is no work; from the English word “slack”.
Thanks this week to Lorin Sklamberg and the YIVO Sound Archives for the 78 recording and image, and to Henry Carrey.
1) Aleyn bikh ikh a Galitsyaner,
gevolt vern Amerikaner.
Nor, vi dortn iz “slek” – nokh Meksik avek.
in yetzt bin ikh a Meksikaner.
Myself, I am from Galicia, wanted to be an American. But since there was no work, I went off to Mexico and now I am an Mexican.
2) In Meksike iz git-o, yes-sir.
Me git dort a trink un a fres-sir.
Mit gur vaynik gelt, ken men brenen dort a velt.
Leybn vi Got in Odes-o.
In Mexico it’s good – Oh yes-sir. One drinks and eats well. With little money you can still live it up and live like God in Odessa.
3) Nor di payes getun a sherl,
gekoyft mir a “het” a sombrero
A royt zaydn hemd un di hor sheyn farkemt.
Ikh zug aykh kh’bin a “caballerl.”
I just cut-off my side locks and bought a hat, a sombrero. A red silk shirt and nicely combed hair. I tell you I am a real caballero [gentleman]
4) Ikh hob shoyn getun dortn ales.
kh’ob oysgezikht far mir a sheyne kale.
Di pekh shvartse hur, di shlanke figur.
Z’hot gebrent vi a heyse “tamale”.
I have already done everything there. I have sought out for me a pretty bride. With pitch black hair and a slender figure – She burned like a hot tamale.
5) Zi hot getantst mit ire fis un ire hento.
un geshoklt mit ir Sacrament-o.
Nokh a por glezlekh vayn, gefilt hot zi fayn.
Bavizn ir gantsn “talent-o”.
She danced with her hands and her hands-o and shook her Sacrament-o. After a few glasses of wine, she felt fine. and showed her best talent-o.
6) Oy, di bist bay mir a “chikita.”
Mir gebisn azoy vi a “meskita.”
Z’hot geshvorn on a shir, tray blayt zi mir.
Farblaybt zi mayn seniorita.
O you are my “chiquita” She bit me like a mosquito. She swore with no end, that she would stay faithful to me. And remain my seniorita.
7) Ir libe is gevorn beshayter.
Geholdzt un gekisht un azoy vayter.
Nokh a kish gibn ir, zugt zi glakh tsu mir.
az zi hot du a man a “bullfighter”.
Her love became more wanton. We necked and we kissed and so forth. After I kissed her, she says to me, that she has a husband, a bullfighter.
8) Hert vi pasirt ot di sibe,
Ayn mol erklert zikh in libe.
Halt shoyn nuvnt mit ir, plitzling efnt zikh di tir.
Un ir man kimt arayn in der shtub-e. [shtib-e]
Listen to how this incident played out. I declared my love for her Was getting closer to her, when suddenly the door opens. And her husband enters the room.
9) Ir man iz a rizת an “atlet-o”.
In hant halt er gor a “stilleto”.
Er hot mir ongekhapt, mayne beyner tseklapt.
Kh’bin geylgn tsvey vokhn in bet-o.
Her husband was a giant, an athlete-o In his hand he holds a stillet-o. He caught me and beat my bones. I lay in bed for two weeks-o.
10) Ikh shver, az ikh mayn nisht keyn vits-e
Ikh fil ven eykh shtay, ven ikh zits-e.
Tsu vern Mexikaner oder Amerikaner?
Fur ikh krik nokh Galitsye.
Tay-de-day-day-day-day…..
I swear that I am not joking. I can feel it when I stand, when I sit. Should I become a Mexican or American? I am going back to Galicia.
In Odes af a shteyn / In Odessa on a Stone
A song about the 1905 Kiev Pogrom Sung by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman
Recorded in 1960s Bronx by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
In Odes af a shteyn is a variant of the previously posted pogrom ballad In Kiever gas. Lifshe Schaechter-Widman (LSW) tells us in her spoken introduction to this song that she learned it from a survivor of the Kiev pogrom of 1905 (October 31 – November 2, 1905) who came to her Bukovina town, Zvinyetchke. Lifshe was then 12 years old.
So the earlier version, In Kiever gas, which was sung soon after the 1881 Kiev pogrom, was reused for the second Kiev pogrom which took place almost 25 years later.
1905 Kiev Pogrom
In Ruth Rubin’s archive a “Mr. Auslander” sings In Ades af der gas, a combination of the two versions:
And here is another performance of the song by LSW from her 1954 recording session with Leybl Kahn. (The first few seconds have been cut off). Some of the lyrics are different in that earlier recording:
The featured LSW version that we have transcribed (the sound recording presented at the top of this posting) is from the 1960s and recorded by Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman in the Bronx. Though this version is shorter than Braginski’s, it also contains, as do almost all the versions, the rhyme katsapes (derogatory term for Russians) and lapes and the appeal to God in the last verse “to take her away from this world.”
Thanks to Lorin Sklamberg and YIVO Sound Archives for help with this week’s blog post.
TRANSCRIPTION
SPOKEN by LSW: Nokh di Kiever pogromen inem yare [yor] finef, fir, finef, zenen gekimen tsi loyfn fin Kiev tsi indz mentshn, hot eyner mikh oysgelernt dus lidl.
In Odes af a shteyn, zitst a meydele aleyn. Zi zitst in zi veynt. Zi zitst in zi veynt, ir harts iz farshteynt. A neduve bay yeydn zi beyt.
Di Kiever katsapes mit zeyere lapes hobn getin mayn faters hoyz tsebrekhn. Dus hoyz tsebrokhn, deym tatn geshtokhn. Di mame iz far shrek imgekimen.
Vi groys iz mayn shand oystsushtrekn di hant un tsu beytn bay laytn gelt, un tsi beytn bay laytn gelt. Oy, Got derbarem, shtrek oys dayn arem. un nem mekh shoyn tsi fin der velt.
TRANSLATION
In Odessa on a rock, sits a girl alone. She sits and she weeps. She sits and weeps, her heart has turned to stone. For alms from everyone she begs.
The Kiev “lousy Russians” and their paws, Did destroy my father’s house. The house destroyed, my father stabbed. My mother died of fright.
How great is my shame to hold out my hand and to beg for money from people, and to beg for money from people. O, God have mercy, and stretch out your arm, and take me away from this world.
Ver s’hot nor in blat gelezn: Der Bialystoker pogrom
Whoever has Read the Newspaper: The Bialystok Pogrom Performance by Frahdl Post, Recorded by Wolf Younin 1970s.
This week’s song was submitted by Henry Carrey. The singer Frahdl Post is his grandmother, the mother of a previously featured singer, Leah Post Carrey (aka Leyke Post). Frahdl was born in Zhitomir, Ukraine in 1881 and died at the Workmen’s Circle Home for the Aged in the Bronx in 1976.
Carrey writes:
“Frahdl Herman Postalov, a/k/a Fannie Post, grew up in Zhitomir, Ukraine in a lower middle-class home, one of four sisters and two brothers. Her father Dovid-Hersh Herman had a shop where grain was sold. His wife, Rivke Kolofsky worked in the shop.
Frahdl Post
As a young girl, she always like to sing and dance and took part in amateur theatricals. Performing ran in the family. Her father was a part-time cantor with a pleasant voice and Frahdl and her brother Pinye teamed up to perform at local parties. She told us that she learned her vast repertoire of many-versed songs by going to a store with friends every day where newly written songs would be purchased and then shared by the girls. She also used to stand in the street outside the local jail and learn revolutionary songs from the prisoners who could be heard through the windows. She remembered attending revolutionary meetings in the woods, and singing all the revolutionary songs, although she herself was not an activist.
One day she went to a fortune-teller who told her that her future husband was waiting at home. When she got home, she saw my grandfather, Shloyme, who had been boarding with her aunt. In 1907 they married and within a year her husband Shloyme was off to America to seek his fortune leaving a pregnant wife. Frahdl and my mother Leyke left to join him about four years later in 1913.
Eventually she got to Halifax, Nova Scotia but was denied entry to the US because she had a highly contagious disease called trachoma. Fortunately, she was somehow allowed into Canada instead of being sent back to Europe as was customary. After four months of treatment in Montreal , Frahdl was cured and they left for Boston, where my grandfather had settled. Frahdl had two more children Rose and Hymie in the next three years.
During the 1920’s, Shloyme decided to move from Boston and start a tire business for Model-T’s in Arlington – a suburb of Boston where there were only three other Jewish families. However, my grandmother still took the tram into the West End of Boston to buy most of her food. Understandably , the children were influenced by the non-Jews around them and once brought a “Chanukah Bush” home and put up stockings on the mantel. My grandmother threw the tree out and filled the stockings with coal and onions from “Sente Closet”. My mother, Leyke, who even at a young age was a singer, had been secretly singing with the Methodist choir. One day the minister came to the door to ask my grandmother’s permission to allow my mother to sing in church on Christmas Eve. That was the last straw for my grandmother and they moved back to the West End.
My grandmother always sang around the house both the Yiddish and Ukrainian folksongs she had learned in Zhitomir and the new Yiddish theater songs she heard from other people or later on the radio and on recordings. All the children learned the songs and Leyke incorporated them into her repertoire when she became a professional singer.”
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman:
The song Ver s’hot nor in blat gelezndescribes the Bialystok pogrom which occurred on June 1, 1906. Two hundred Jews were killed and seven hundred wounded – a particularly violent pogrom.
A number of verses are similar to other pogrom songs. The same song but only five verses long, with a reference to a pogrom in Odessa (1871? 1881? 1905?) is heard on Ruth Rubin’s Folkways album The Old Country and is printed in the YIVO collection Yiddish Folksongs from the Ruth Rubin Archive sung by Mr. Persky of Montreal. We have attached two scans of the song as it appears in the book, words and melody.
Click here for a previous posting about another song about pogroms (including Bialystok).
There it is noted that “The song is folklorized from a poem by Abraham Goldfaden, Di holoveshke (The Ember). I find only the third verse of Goldfaden’s poem to be adapted in this song. Three scans of Goldfaden’s original poem are attached as they appear in the 1891 edition of Dos yidele. In Post’s version it is the fifth verse.
In the Frahdl Post recording, the 10th verse ends abruptly before the song’s conclusion. Fortunately, Henry Carrey was able to add the last verse (and an alternate line) based on other recordings of his grandmother, so the transcription and translation include this final verse but it is cut off in the audio recording.
Wolf Younin (1908 – 1984), who recorded this song, was a well-known Yiddish poet, lyricist (Pozharne komande, Zing shtil,Der yid, der shmid,Ober morgn) and journalist. His column Shprakhvinkl included much Jewish folklore. Younin’s NY Times obituary is available here:
Thanks to Henry Carrey for this week’s post. The transliteration is based on his version. I changed some words to reflect her dialect.
TRANSLITERATION
Ver s’hot nor di blat geleyzn
Fun der barimter shtot Bialistok
Vos far an imglik dort iz geveyzn
In eyne tsvey dray teg.
Plitsling, hot men oysgeshrign,
“Shlugt di yidn vi vat ir kent! “
Shteyner in di fenster hobn genumen flien.
A pogrom hot zikh oysgerisn in eyn moment.
Blit gist zikh shoyn in ale gasn,
In se shpritst zikh shoyn oyf di vent.
Yidn hot men geharget, oysgeshlugn.
Mit zeyer blit hot men gemult di vent.
Dort shteyt a kale oyf di harte shteyner,
Ungetun in ir vays khipe-kleyd
Un leybn ir shteyt a merder eyner
un er halt dem khalef in der hant gegreyt.
Dort ligt a froy , a yinge, a sheyne,
farvorfn, farshmitst ligt zi oyfn mist.
Leybn ir ligt a kind a kleyne;
zi tit ir zoygn ir toyte kalte brist.
Vi zey zaynen nor in shtub arayngekimen,
un zey hobn di mentshn git gekent.
Vus iz geveyn in shtib hobn zey tsebrokhn.
Di mentshn upgeshnitn hobn zey di hent.
Vi zey zaynen nor in shtub arayngekimen,
Mit ayn tuml, mit a groysn rash.
Vus iz geven in shtub hobn zey tsebrokhn,
Kleyne kinder arupgevorfn funem dritn antash.
Ver s’iz baym umglik nisht geveyzn
Un er hot dem tsorn nisht gezeyn.
Mentshn hobn geshrign “Oy vey un vind is mir”.
Aroysgelozt hobn zey a groys geveyn.
Vi men hot zey in hospital arayngebrakht,
Keyner hot zey gor nisht derkent.
Mentshn hobn geshrign “ Oy, vey un vind is mir”.
Zey hobn gebrokhn mit di hent.
Oy, du Got, [Recording ends at this point ]
Oy, du Got du bist a guter,
Far vo’zhe kukstu nisht fun himl arop ?
Vi mir laydn shver un biter
[Or alternate line: Batrakht zhe nor dem yidishn tuml]|
Farvos dayne yidn, zey kumen op.
TRANSLATION
Who has not read in the papers
Of the well-known city Bialystok
Of the tragedy that befell it.
in a matter of three days.
Suddenly someone cried out
“Beat the Jews as much as you can!”
Stones thrown at windows started flying
A pogrom erupted in one moment.
Blood already flows in all the streets
And is spurting already on the walls.
Jews were killed and beaten
With their blood the walls were painted.
There stands a bride on the hard stones
Dressed in her white bridal gown.
Next to her stands a murderer
And he holds the knife ready in his hand.
There lies a woman, young and beautiful
Abandoned, tortured, she lay on the garbage,
And next to her lies a small child
She nurses it from her dead, cold breast.
As soon as they entered the house
And they knew the people well,
Whatever was in the house they broke
The people’s hands they cut off.
As soon as they came into the house
With noise and violence
Whatever was in the house they broke;
Small children were thrown down from the third floor.
Whoever was not at this tragedy
Did not see this great anger.
People yelled “O woe is me”
Letting out a great cry.
When they brought them to the hospital
No one could recognize them.
People cried out “Woe is me”
And wrung their hands .
Oy God [recording ends here but should continue with…]
Oy God you are good
why don’t you look down from heaven?
How we suffer hard and bitter
[alternate line: “Look upon this Jewish chaos”
Why your Jews are so punished.
Ver es hot in blat gelezn (From YIVO publication Yiddish Folksongs from the Ruth Rubin Archive):
Abraham Goldfaden’s poem Di holoveshke (The Ember), published in Dos yidele (1891)
Krakovyake-vyane Mocking Yiddish song to accompany the
Polish dance Krakowiak
Sung by Tsunye Rymer,
recorded by Itzik Gottesman, 1985 NYC
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman.
Krakowiak by Zofia Stryjeńska, 1927
Rymer sings: Krakovyake-vyane
shtup aroys di pani.
Di pani tor men nisht shtupn.
Zets ir oys di tseyn.
Di tseyn tor men nit zetsn.
Dos ponim tor men nisht netsn.
(Rymer spoken) Un azoy vayter.
TRANSLATION of Rymer’s Version:
Krakoviake-vyane
Push out the lady.
You shouldn’t push the lady;
Knock out her teeth.
You shouldn’t knock out her teeth,
You shouldn’t soak the face.
(Rymer spoken) …and so on.
In the spirit of Purim this week, we present a parodic dance song. Tsunye Rymer sings this fragment of a Yiddish song to accompany the Polish Krakowiak dance. This particular tune is known as Krakowiaczek jeden. Here is a version on Youtube of this melody, which is considered a children’s song:
To read about the Krakowiak dance, costume and music click here.
The Krakowiak was a complicated dance and often someone had to lead the dance (אוספֿירן דעם טאַנץ) and call out the moves, so it makes sense that a Yiddish parodic text would be created. Mariza Nawrocka was kind enough to identify which Krakowiak Rymer sang and to translate the Polish song for us; here are the first two verses.
Krakowiaczek jeden / one Krakowiaczek (little habitant of Kraków)
miał koników siedem, / had 7 horses
pojechał na wojnę, / he went on a war
został mu się jeden. / only 1 remained
Siedem lat wojował, / He was fighting 7 years
szabli nie wyjmował, / he was not takeing out his sabre
szabla zardzewiała, / the sabre got rusty
wojny nie widziała. / it didn’t see the war.
Though Rymer’s version is incomplete we can add more verses from other sources.
In I. L. Cahan Yidishe folkslider mit melodyes (NY YIVO, 1952) there are more stanzas and versions, originally Cahan had all of these versions under the category “Krakovyanke”. Attached at the end of this post are scans of the songs in Yiddish as published in Cahan. (Cahan1, Cahan2).
He did not publish any music with these texts:
From Chudnov, (YID – Tshidnev) Volhynia,Ukraine:
Krakoviak, herits,
Shtup aroys dem porets.
Az er vil nisht geyn
Zets im oys di tseyn!
Krakoviatska ane,
shtup aroys di pani.
Az di pani vil nit geyn,
Hak ir oys di tseyn! (#225, page 227)
From Brailov, (YID – Bralev) Podolya, Ukraine:
Yakov, yakov-yane,
shtup aroys di pani!
Di pani vil nit geyn.
Zets ir oys di tseyn!
Di tseyn tor men nit zetsn,
Dos ponim tor men nit netsn.
Azoy vi in Ades,
Azoy in Bukarest! (#227, page 228)
From Priluk, (YID – Priluk) Poltaver region, Ukraine:
Krako-krako-vyana,
Shlep arayn di pani;
Di pani vil nit geyn.
Shlep ir far di tseyn! (#228, page 228)
From Bessarabia or Odessa:
From Zalmen Rosenthal’s collection in Reshumotvol. 2, 1926/27 in his category “Children’s Songs”
Nake, nake, nitse
shtup aroys di pritse.
Di pritse vil nit geyn.
Zets ir oys di tseyn.
Di tseyn tor men nit zetsn.
un dos ponim tor men nit netsn.
I. L. Cahan also considered a song about Beylke, though textually different and with no mention of Krakowiak, to be part of this parodic Krakowiak tradition. I assume he determined this by the melody. Versions of this “Beylke” Krakowiak song can be found in Cahan 1952, Bastomski 1923 and Tsaytshrift volume 2-3, Minsk, 1928.
Special thanks for this post to Mariza Nawrocka and Paul Glasser.
From I. L. Cahan Yidishe folkslider mit melodyes (NY YIVO, 1952):
Mame, a kholem (Mother, A Dream)
Performed by Lifshe Schaechter-Widman
recorded by Leybl Kahn, NY 1954
Commentary by Itzik Gottesman
The motif of the lover who returns as a beggar is as old as Homer’s Odyssey and is found in ballads throughout the world. In this Yiddish ballad version, the former lover is not disguised as a beggar but has indeed become one because of his “character”.
“Jewish Beggar” by Rembrandt
I consider this ballad to be one of Lifshe Schaechter-Widman’s [LSW] masterpieces. Not only because it is certainly among the older songs in her repertoire, but because of the deeply emotional way she performs it, concluding with the dramatic last verse in which the woman reveals to her mother who is at the door.
In typical old ballad style, the dialogue prevails: first between mother and daughter, then between daughter and beggar (former lover) and finally, again, between daughter and mother. There is a break in the narrative after the third verse when the dialogue changes and at this point Leybl Kahn, who is recording the song, feels compelled to ask LSW to continue.
This transition from third to fourth verse is noteworthy. A new plot/scene develops at this point. It leads me to believe that originally there might have been two ballads that were combined to form one.
Supporting this idea are the awkward transitions between the two scenes in all the versions. We also have examples of separate ballads. Singer/researcher Michael Alpert recorded Fanya Moshinskaya, (born 1915 in Babyi Yar, Kiev), singing a ballad of the first scene – ‘Oy a kholem’. And he has recorded Bronya Sakina (1910 – 1988) from Olvanisk (Holovanivsk/Golovanevsk, Ukraine) singing a ballad – “Derbaremt aykh”- depicting the beggar/lover scene. Alpert currently sings both of them and sometimes combines them.
In addition, there are two other versions of just the beggar/lover ballad with no first “kholem” part in the Soviet Folklor-lider volume 2 1936, page 202-204,. Song #62 – “Shoyn dray yor az ikh shpil a libe” and #63 – “Vi azoy ikh her a lirnik shpiln”. The singer for #62 was Rive Diner from Bila Tserkva, Ukraine, 1926. The singer for #63 was Yekhil Matekhin from Sobolivke, Ukraine, recorded in 1925.
A nine-verse Odessa variant without music of the LSW combined ballad – “Oj, a xolem hot zix mir gexolemt” – can be found in Folklor-lider volume 2 1936, page 201-202 song# 61. This was republished by Moyshe Beregovski with music in his Jewish Folk Songs (1962) #34 pp. 75-77, reprinted in Mark Slobin’s Beregovski compendium Old Jewish Folk Music 1982, p. 353 – 355. The singer was Dine Leshner from Odessa, 1930.
In Leshner’s ballad, the transition verse between the two scenes, verse four, is presented in first person from the beggar’s viewpoint, not in dialogue. It would be quite confusing for the listener to figure out who is speaking, and I imagine the singer would almost be required to stop singing and indicate who is speaking (as LSW does at this transition point!).
Another variant of the combined version was collected by Sofia Magid in 1934 in a Belarus kolkhoz “Sitnya”, from the singer Bronya Vinokur (PON 103, full text on page 580, “Unser Rebbe, unser Stalin” edited by Elvira Grozinger and Susi Hudak-Lazic, 2008. The audio recording can be heard on the accompanying DVD). The initial dialogue is between a man and his mother. He then travels to the rebbe, and comes to her as a beggar. She curses him in the last verse.
Oyb du host a froy mit a kleyn kind, Zolstu zikh muttsen [mutshn] ale dayne yor. Oyb du host mir frier nit genumen, Konstu sheyn nit zayn mayn por.
If you have a wife and child, May you suffer all your years. If you did not take me before, Then you can no longer be my match.
Hardly the romantic ending we find in the LSW version.
I would like to take the liberty of suggesting some word changes in LSW’s version for any singers out there thinking of performing the song. These suggestions are based on the other versions and on the way LSW’s daughter, Beyle Schaechter-Gottesman [BSG] sang the song.
1) Clearly the last line in the first verse of LSW’s ballad, which doesn’t rhyme with “gedakht”, is a mistake. BSG sang instead the rhymed line –
“Az mayn gelibter shteyt baym bet bay nakht” [“That my lover is standing at my bed at night”]
But in Magid’s version and in the Alpert/ Moshinskaya’s version this line reads – “un fun mir hot er zikh oysgelakht” (and he laughed at me”) And in the Folklor-lider version the line reads “un fun mir hot er khoyzek gemakht” (“and he mocked me”) So the mocking of the girl is the “character” flaw that results in his becoming a beggar.
2) Instead of “futerland” Bronya Sakina sang “geboyrn-land” which strikes me as folkier and more appropriate, though in one of the Folklor-lider versions, the daughter does use “foterland” as well.
3) Instead of LSW’s “derkh mayn kharakter”, – “because of my character”, – others sing “durkh a libe” and “durkh a gelibter– “because of a love”, “because of beloved”. This also strikes me as the older concept and more in line with the whole song.
4) Instead of LSW’s “untershtitsung” – “nedove” is more traditional. Both mean “alms”, “donation”.
5) LSW sings “iftsishteln di hant” – “to raise up the hand”. Usually that would be “oystsushtrekn di hant” – “to reach out your hand”.
6) For the last line she sings “vayl dos iz der velkher iz mayn gelibter geveyn.” (“because this is the one who was my lover”) but shorter and to the point is “vayl dos iz mayn gelibter geveyn” (because he was my lover”). BSG sang it this way.
TRANSLITERATION
1) Mame, a khulem hot zikh mir gekhulemt,
Oy, mame, a khulem hot zikh mir gedakht.
Oy, a khulem hot zikh mir gekhulemt,
az man gelibter shteyt leybn mayn bet.
2) Oy a khulem tokhter tur men nit gleybn
Vayl a khulem makht dem mentshn tsim nar.
Morgn veln mir tsi dem rebe furn.
A pidyen veln mir im geybn derfar.
3) Vus ken mir den der rebe helfn?
Tsi ken er mir geybn deym vus eykh hob lib?
In mayn hartsn vet er mame blaybn
Biz in mayn fintsern grib.
In mayn hartsn vet er mame blaybn.
Biz in mayn fintsern grib.
Spoken: Leylb Kahn says “Dos gantse lid”
LSW: “Es geyt nokh vater.”
Leybl: “Lomir hern vayter.”
Spoken: LSW – “Es dakht zikh ir, az der khusn
kimt aran..”
4) Hots rakhmunes af mir libe mentshn
hots rakhmunes af mir in a noyt.
mit alem gitn zol nor Gotenyu bentshn.
Hots rakhmones un shenkts a shtikl broyt.
5) “Far vus zhe geysti azoy upgerisn?
Shemst zikh nisht iftsishteln di hant?
Fin vanen di bist bin ikh naygerik tsi visn.
Rif mir un dayn futerland.
6) Geboyrn bin eykh in a groys hoz.
Dertsoygn bin eykh eydl un raykh,
derkh mayn kharakter bin eykh urem gevorn
in intershtitsing beyt eykh du fin aykh.
7) Tsi vilt ir mir epes shenkn?
Git zhet mir in lozts mekh du nisht shteyn.
Tits mikh nit azoy fil krenken,
Vayl dus hob eykh mir mitgenemen aleyn.
8) Oy, mamenyu gib im shoyn a neduve.
Gib im shoyn un loz im do nisht shteyn.
Gib im avek a halb fin indzer farmeygn,
vayl dos iz der velkher iz mayn gelibter geveyn.
Gib im shoyn a halb fin indzer farmeygn,
vayl dos iz der velkher iz mayn gelibter geveyn.
TRANSLATION
1) Mama, I dreamed a dream,
oh mame, a dream i had imagined.
Oh a dream i had dreamed,
That my love was near my bed.
[..stands near me at night]
2) O daughter, a dream should not be believed.
Because a dream can lead you astray.
Tomorrow we will travel to the Rebbe
and give him payment for this.
3) O, how can the Rebbe help me.
Can he give me the one I love?
In my heart he will always remain.
Till my dark grave.
SPOKEN:
Leylb Kahn: The whole song
LSW: There is more.
Leybl: Let’s hear more.
LSW: She thinks that her groom has entered…
4) “Take pity on me dear people.
Take people on me in my need.
May God bless you with all good things.
Take pity and give a piece of bread.”
5) “Why are you going around in rags?
Are you not ashamed to hold out your hand?
Where are you from? I would like to know.
Tell me your fatherland.”
6) “I was born in a big house,
Raised noble and wealthy.
Because of my character, I became poor,
and for a donation from you I now beg.”
7) “Do you want to give me some alms?
Then give me and don‘t leave me standing here.
Don‘t torture me so,
For I have already suffered enough.”
8) “O mother give alms right now,
Give him now, and don‘t let him stand there.
Give him away a half of our fortune,
For he was once my beloved.”
Folklor-lider Volume 2 1936, pp. 202-204,. Song #62 – “Shoyn dray yor az ikh shpil a libe”:
and #63 – “Vi azoy ikh her a lirnik shpiln”:
Jewish Folk Songs (1962) #34, ed. Moyshe Beregovski, pp. 75-77, reprinted in Mark Slobin’s Beregovski compendium Old Jewish Folk Music 1982, p. 353 – 355:
“Unser Rebbe, unser Stalin” edited by Elvira Grozinger and Susi Hudak-Lazic, 2008:
Image of a Wedding Procession by Isaak Ashknaziy, 1893
One of our favorite Yiddish caballeros
Krakowiak by Zofia Stryjeńska, 1927
“Jewish Beggar” by Rembrandt
Yiddish Song of the Week 