Once upon a time...

I've spent the past week in a kind of culture shock feeling of weirdness, triggered by spending the weekend with an LGBT birthright group.  We were invited to bring our family and be kind of Israeli gay role models of sorts.  Expecting to find ourselves somehow mirrored by this group of 20 somethings, we were instead confronted by how the world we came out into has disappeared.  Nearly all the women in the group had long hair.  Anyone who looked much like Alen had transitioned to being male.  We saw scars from "top surgery" for the first time (at the pool).  Rather than finding ourselves mirrored, I found myself fighting to understand what I saw, searching in vain for the world I came out into in 1987, the community I thought I belonged to.

It took quite a few emails with a young friend in Boston, and a conversation today with a gay man my age to get back my sense of humor and to remember that Romanovsky and Phillips already described this phenomenon in their song, "Once upon a time..."

Best of all, my old brain remembers all the lyrics (more or less):

Once upon a time when life was simple and serene
My roommate was a lesbian and I a happy queen
I lived to go out dancing in my tightest fitting jeans
While she read the well of loneliness and lexus magazine

But now I go to pot lucks where the food is rather bleak
And I've joined a new support group that meets every other week
While she lives to go out dancing with her hair done up in curls
It's getting hard to tell the boys from the girls

Once upon a time when life was easy to predict
Sex was something I could get and I could get it quick
I'd look at all the men and know that I could take my pick
While she frowned upon my lifestyle with each and every trick

But now my sex adventures while still fun are rather tame
While she's discovered Joann Loulan and she'll never be the same
Cuz she dates a lot of women and she buys erotic toys
It's getting hard to tell the girls from the boys

Once upon a time when life was crystal clear
Each of us had favorite music that we loved to hear
I'd go dancing to sylvester down in key west every year
While she went to music festivals and worshipped holly near

But now our taste in music has completely turned around
And instead of going to michigan she goes to provincetown
While I play alix dobkin on my walkman now and then
It's getting hard to tell the women from the men

Times they change, fashions rearrange themselves
If you don't stay on top, you find yourself
Parked on a shelf

Once upon a time when life was black and white
I used to do the drag shows to be famous for a night
While she drank her beer without a glass and shopped for Mrs. Right
I'd cruise the local customers just asking for a light

But now she is the only one who steps out in a dress
While I've been wearing all her flannel shirts and sandals I confess
Now she smokes Virginia Slims instead of lucky strikes
It's getting hard to tell the boys from girls, hard to tell the men from women, hard to tell the faggots from the dykes.

Now if all of this should seem to show that everyone's gone mad
It's only part and parcel of a somewhat larger fad
Look no further than the glint of gold in many a straight boys ear
It's getting hard to tell the breeders from the queers.

Thanks to Romanovsky and Phillips and to my friends for reminding me I'm just getting old, and this happens every few years.  I don't know if I'm parked on a shelf yet, but I apparently need to heed their advice to "stay on top".

Please explain this song!

מדורת השבט

מילים ולחן: שי דקל

לא יודע מה יהיה. הולך ברחוב ומשתהה.
באמצע היום לחות וחום.
נעצר בתחנת האוטובוס באותו מקום.
רואה חבר בגלגל הזמן חולפות תמונות בעיני
מרחוב קטן בניו יורק ובן יהודה כאן
קצת געגוע וסיפור ישן.

איפה הם אומרים שבט אחים גם יחד
מדורת השבט נעלמה נשאר הפחד
לא משעמם בארץ המובטחת
ורק הצחוק מתגלגל עם הכאב ביחד
ורק הצחוק מתגלגל עם הכאב ביחד

ריקוד ההורה כבר נדם. מהשרשרת מה נשאר.
החיבוק נעלם כמו לא קיים.
אולי נשאל את הזקן ודרומה ניסע לשם.
חוזר מהר למציאות ומחר עוד יום של תחרות
כמו שתיל נטוע כאן איך שחולף לו הזמן
כי עוד נשאר חלום חלום קטן


Let me know if you have any ideas what this song is about. Now that I'm reading the actual lyrics, I'm not sure if it's an Israeli writing from being away, or someone who is here. People in the know, please advise. Meanwhile, I greatly enjoyed the Lag B'Omer Tekes where Gabi's class sang this!

Too Few & Far Between

Deirdre McCalla herself sent me the lyrics and said she'll post the song next month on www.deirdremccalla.com. Believe it or not, I had them mostly memorized, but I had forgotten the second verse.

TOO FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
(Deidre McCalla)

AFTER IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE WE REMEMBER
TIME WILL MOVE ON BUT THE MEMORIES REPEAT
ME IN MY SCARS MEETING YOU WITH YOUR HUNGER
TO CRY IN THE NIGHT ON A ST. THOMAS BEACH
THERE'S NO REWRITING HISTORY
BE DAMNED YOUR LUCK AT ALL
TO BE BORN INTO AN AGE WHERE
GENTLE MEN STILL FALL
TOO FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
AND IT DOESN'T MAKE A LIFETIME

PIECES OF DREAMS IN A CARELESS WIND SCATTERED
TOSSED BY THE TIDES AND THE VAGARIES OF FATE
HEARTS ONCE UNITED AND TESTED BY FIRE
STRETCH TO THEIR LIMIT AND FINALLY BREAK
INSIDE A CONSTANT STRANGER
MAKES HER PEACE WITH EACH NEW SUN
DESIRE'S ONLY PASSING
AND TRUE LOVE OFTEN COMES
TOO FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
AND IT DOESN'T MAKE A LIFETIME

THE SACRIFICE OFFERED BY EACH GENERATION
ARE THOSE WHO WILL RISE UP AND ANSWER THE CALL
CHANGE HAPPENS SLOWLY AND OUR REVOLUTION
STILL QUESTIONS THE PRICE OF EACH WARRIOR WHO FALLS
THE CHOICES ARE REFLECTED
IN THOUGHT AND WORD AND DEED
FOR CAUSES WE WOULD DIE FOR
AND REASONS TO BELIEVE
ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
AND THEY OFTEN TAKE A LIFETIME

WHEN THE TIME COMES TO COUNT UP ALL OUR BLESSINGS
IT MAY SEEM HARD TO KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN
ONE IS THE PURE CELEBRATION OF LIVING
TWO IS THE LIGHT IN THE EYE OF A FRIEND
TREASURE EVERY MOMENT
WHERE THE LAUGHTER FALLS LIKE RAIN
THERE WILL BE DAYS OF SORROW
AND THE ECHOES THAT REMAIN
ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
BUT THEY OFTEN MAKE A LIFETIME

I always thought that I'd see you again

I wanted to share some songs and poems I've been thinking of in the days since I found out my beloved friend Alan Kaufmann took his own life last week.

Alan and I met in the summer of 1981 when I was 19. I don't know if we saw each other since that time. Today I went looking for the box he gave me with a scroll in it saying that I would always have a place in his heart. We were connected to each other until the day he died, and had planned to see each other February 1. Since he died I understand everything about why we will not be seeing each other, but I still grieve.

While looking for the box he gave me I came across this poem:

Should you go first and I remain
To walk to road alone
I'll live in memory's garden dear
With happy days we've known
In spring I'll watch for roses red
When fades the lilac blue
In early fall when brown leaves call
I'll catch a glimpse of you

....Should you go first and I remain
To finish with the scroll
No length'ning shadows shall creep in
To make this life seem droll
We've known so much happiness
We've had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of G-d
That death cannot destroy

In the box where I found Alan Kaufmann's photos I also found lots of love letters from my Alen that made me smile.

I've been thinking of the Deirdre McCalla song too few and far between, but I can't find the lyrics online. Her music really speaks to me right now. Since I can't find that, I'll post this beautiful version of her song Blessings.

Jackson Browne - the best!

I got up this morning and was thinking of this Jackson Browne song. Thank G-d for Google - otherwise I would have had to remember the words myself!

It's a little maudlin, but if you know the music, you might like it. And this youtube is awesome!


Your Bright Baby Blues by Jackson Browne

I'm sittin' down by the highway
Down by that highway side
Everybody's goin' somewhere
Ridin' just as fast as they could ride

I guess they got a lot to do
Before they can rest assured
Their lives are justified
Pray to God for me, babe, he can let me slide

Well, I've been up and down this highway
Far as my eyes can see
No matter how fast I run
I can never seem to get away from me

No matter where I am
I can't help thinkin', I'm just a day away
Where I wanna be
Now I'm runnin' home, baby
Like a river to the sea

Baby, if you could see me
Out across this wilderness
There's just one thing
I was hopin' you might guess

Baby, you can free me
All in the power of your sweet tenderness
Yeah, yeah

I can see it in your eyes
You've got those bright baby blues
You don't see what you've got to gain
But you don't like to lose

You watch yourself from the sidelines
Like your life is a game
You don't mind playin', to keep yourself amused
I don't mean to be cruel, babe
But you're lookin', confused

Baby if you can hear me
Turn down your radio
There's just one thing
I want you to know

When you've been near me
I've felt the love
Stirrin' in my soul, yeah, yeah, yes I have

It's so hard to come by
That feeling of peace
This friend of mine said
"Close your eyes
And try a few of these"

I thought I flyin' like a bird
So far above my sorrow
But when I looked down
I was standin' on my knees

Now I need
Someone to help me
Someone to help me, please

Baby, if you need me
Like I know I need you
There's just one thing
I'll ask you to do

Take my hand and lead me
To the hole in your garden wall
And pull me through, pull me through

In memory of Lucas

I've been thinking of this song a lot - especially the part about "I wake up in the morning and I wonder". The song is about lost love, but much of it fits with any loss, when the world keeps moving around us and we aren't there somehow.

Please keep our family in your prayers over Easter and Passover - they are having a memorial there and we are having a memorial here on Sunday, April 17. We'll be planting a tree in memory of Lucas.

I've linked the title to a video of Karen Carpenter singing the song. This is the first version of the song I ever heard, when I was about 11 years old.

The End Of The World

Why does the sun go on shining?
Why does the sea rush to the shore?
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me anymore?

Why do the birds go on singing?
Why do the stars glow above?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when I lost your love

I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything's the same as it was
I can't understand, no I can't understand
How life goes on the way it does

Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when you said goodbye

In memory of Lucas

I'm posting these lyrics in memory of Lucas who died one week ago. The title to the song is linked to the youtube song:

BREATHS by Sweet Honey and the Rock

Refrain:
Listen more often to things than to beings.
Listen more often to things than to beings.
Tis the ancestors’ breath when the fire’s voice is heard
Tis the ancestors’ breath in the voice of the water.

Those who have died have never ever left.
The dead are not under the earth.
They are in the rustling trees.
They are in the groaning woods.
They are in the crying grass.
They are in the moaning rocks.
The dead are not under the earth.
So,

(Refrain)

Those who have died have never ever left.
The dead have a pact with the living.
They are in the woman’s breast
They are in the waiting child.
They with us in the home,
They are with us in the crowd.
The dead have pact with the living
So,

I also heard this performed by the gay men's a cappella group, the Flirtations, with Michael Callen, in the middle of the AIDS crisis. Hear their version here

All the lyrics to Blow Ye Winds

Blow, Ye Winds

Traditional - Lyrics from Songs of American Sailormen, by Joanna Colcord


'Tis advertised in Boston, New York and Buffalo,
Five hundred brave Americans, a-whaling for to go, singing

Blow, ye winds in the morning, And blow, ye winds, high-i!
Clear away your running gear, And blow, ye winds, high-o!

They send you to New Bedord, that famous whaling port,
And give you to some land-sharks to board and fit you out.

They send you to a boarding-house, there for a time to dwell;
The thieves they there are thicker than the other side of hell!

They tell you of the clipper-ships-a-going in and out,
And say you'll take five hundred sperm before you're six months out.

It's now we're out to sea, my boys, the wind comes on to blow;
One half the watch is sick on deck, the other half below.

But as for the provisions, we don't get half enough;
A little piece of stinking beef and a blamed small bag of duff.

Now comes that damned old compass, it will grieve your heart full sore.
For theirs is two-and-thirty points and we have forty-four.

Next comes the running rigging, which you're all supposed to know;
'Tis "Lay aloft, you son-of-a-gun, or overboard you go!"

The cooper's at the vise-bench, a-making iron poles,
And the mate's upon the main hatch a-cursing all our souls.

The Skipper's on the quarter-deck a-squinting at the sails,
When up aloft the lookout sights a school of whales.

"Now clear away the boats, my boys, and after him we'll travel,
But if you get too near his fluke, he'll kick you to the devil!"

Now we have got him turned up, we tow him alongside;
We over with our blubber-hooks and rob him of his hide.

Now the boat-steerer overside the tackle overhauls,
The Skipper's in the main-chains, so loudly he does bawl!

Next comes the stowing down, my boys; 'twill take both night and day,
And you'll all have fifty cents apiece on the hundred and ninetieth lay.

Now we are bound into Tonbas, that blasted whaling port,
And if you run away, my boys, you surely will get caught.

Now we are bound into Tuckoona, full more in their power,
Where the skippers can buy the Consul up for half a barrel of flour!

But now that our old ship is full and we don't give a damn,
We'll bend on all our stu'nsails and sail for Yankee land.

When we get home, our ship made fast, and we get through our sailing,
A winding glass around we'll pass and damn this blubber whaling!

"I Come for to Sing"

Folksinging in Woods Hole always began the same way:

Some come to dance/some come to play/others come just to pass time away
Some come to laugh/their voices do ring/but as for me/I come for to sing

Some kids join in/others do not/
some like to talk about what I ain't got
But I don't care/it don't mean a thing/I'll keep on coming, coming to sing


Phyllis Switzer Goldstein z"l led folksinging at the MBL club in Woods Hole for 45 years. She was a shining light in my life, and living proof of how much influence one person can have through song. January took three wonderful Jewish women who loved singing from the world - Debbie Friedman, Felice Yeskel, and Phyllis. Phyllis was the one I knew longest - from my childhood through the incredible privilege of taking my daughter to sing with her in 2006 and 2008.

The photo is of her in recent years - take off 40 years or so and you'll see how I saw her as a child - she was beautiful. She always wore the same outfit to folksinging when we were kids - a navy blue shirt and white pants. The other place I would see her was on the tennis court - tanned and athletic, looking anything but femme in one of those cute tennis skirts women wore (wear?). I saw her with the adoring eyes of a child - she was larger than life - funny, charismatic, brilliant.

Phyllis taught us American History through music - sea shanties, spirituals (like Follow the Drinking Gourd), union songs, along with lots of humor. And she made up songs about Woods Hole. This is an old favorite of mine that she stopped singing the last 15 years or so:

Good to be in Woods Hole (to the tune of 'Tom Dooley')

Good to be in Woods Hole/I will never roam
Good to be in Woods Hole/I'm never ever going back home

Every day that's sunny/reckon where I'll be
Down at a beach called stony/swimming in the wide wide sea

The MBL club is our place/we make the rafters ring
On Mondays some of us come to dance/on Tuesdays we all come and sing

Last night I went to Joe's to eat/I wasn't wearing shoes
The sign said no bare feet allow/now I'm singing those fried clam blues

Another old favorite:

Take me back to Woods Hole, Take me back to Woods Hole, Take me back oh take me back oh take me back to Woods Hole
Oh to be in Old Woods Hole, that's where I'd rather be, than be bound in New York, suffering from humidity

One I've been thinking of lately that came with a story
A way down south in the yankety yank/a bullfrog jumped from bank to bank
just because he'd nothing better for to do
Well he stubbed his toe when he fell in the water
You could hear him yell for a mile and a quarter
Just because he'd nothing better for to do

Like much of Phyllis's teaching, that story came with a moral, which was about the pride of the bullfrog and how it got him into trouble.

Phyllis did a story and song Abiyoyo - I only later found out it came from Pete Seeger. This also had a moral, one we kids loved, that a boy with a guitar causing trouble could wind up saving his community.

When I was very young, we got to choose if we wanted Abiyoyo or Stewball. Here's one version of Stewball - there are a bunch online.

With my kids, I find myself singing more of the silly songs Phyllis sang in the last 2 decades: Black Socks, Slam the door on the doctor's nose, There was a man who had a goat. There were also gospel favorites like Good News, Chariot's a comin We sang this in a bunch of parts. And there were nonsense like songs or songs in languages that we did not understand - a ram sam sam

Phyllis directed musicals in Woods Hole and Falmouth for a number of years. You had to be a certain age, 8 or 9 maybe, to audition. When I finally reached the age I went to the audition. I had to sing something for Phyllis and I was very nervous. The song I chose to sing was one we sang at folksinging: Hey Ho, Nobody Home. I guess I must have seemed very nervous - afterwards Phyllis asked me how old I was and shook my hand. It was a big let down because I really wanted to be in the play but she clearly thought I was too young. And after that she stopped doing the plays, so I didn't get another chance. I remember though the production of Iolanthe she put on - it was beautiful.

Folksinging always ended with This Land is Your Land. There was a special harmony the cool teens sang: This land is your land, this land is mine, from Maine to Montana, desert to the shore, we sing that this land is your land, this land is mine, this land is made for you and me. And then "one last time"!

I had occasion to reflect on this song in one of my "driving questions" meditations, when I heard Bruce Springsteen on the radio singing it as I was driving home through the West Bank a few years back. The few times I was with Alen at folksinging, this song kind of stuck in our throats as we made our way into exile from the US. Phyllis taught me so much about the American dream and about how America could be a country for all of us - for Jews, for African Americans, for New Englanders.

I was surprised when I grew up and Phyllis treated me like an adult - I always felt like that small child in her eyes. I remember seeing her in 2002 and telling her I was living in Israel - it was the height of the intifada. I don't remember what she said but I remember her look - I came away with a sense of her pride in and love of Israel and understanding of the difficult and complex situation here. When I was a pulpit rabbi, especially when I got to work with children, I always felt that she was one of my true role models for how to be.

If you are reading this, don't hesitate to be someone in the life of a child. I read in recent years that people who consider themselves successful in life know who their role models are. Phyllis Switzer Goldstein was a role model for me, my siblings, and countless other young people. May her memory be for a blessing.

Ballad of Erica Levine

I had a request for the full lyrics of this song, mentioned in my post Contingency and Responsibility.

It's found on page 244 in Rise Up Singing. Hear it on Youtube

The Ballad of Erica Levine
(Bob Blue)

When Erica Levine was seven and a half
Up to her door came Jason Metcalfe
And he said "Will you marry me, Erica Levine?"
And Erica Levine said "What do you mean?"
"Well my father and my mother say a fellow ought to marry
And my father said his brother, who is my Uncle Larry
Never married and he said Uncle Larry is a dope---
So will you marry me?" Said Erica,"Nope."
"My piano teacher's smart, and she never had to marry
And your father may be right about your Uncle Larry,
But not being married isn't what made him a dope.
Don't ask me again, 'cause my answer's 'Nope'."

When Erica Levine was seventeen
She went to a dance with Joel Bernstein,
And they danced by the light of a sparkling bobby sock,
'Cause the theme of the prom was the history of Rock.
And after the prom, Joel kissed her at the door,
And he said "Do you know what that kiss was for?"
And she said "I don't know, but you kiss just fine."
And he said "What it means is that you are mine."
And she said "No, I'm not!", and she rushed inside
And on the way home, Joel Bernstein cried
And she cried, too, and wrote a letter to 'Ms.',
Saying"This much I know: I am mine, not his."

When Erica Levine was twenty-three
Her lover said "Erica, marry me.
This relationship is answering a basic need
And I'd like to have it legally guaranteed.
For without your precious love I would surely die
So why can't we make it legal?" Said Erica, "Why?
Basic needs, at your age, should be met by you;
I'm your lover, not your mother---let's be careful what we do.
If I should ever marry,I will marry to grow,
Not for tradition, or possession or protection. No!
I love you, but your needs are a very different issue."
Then He cried, and Erica handed him a tissue.

When Erica was thirty, she was talking with Lou,
Discussing and deciding what they wanted to do.
"When we marry, should we move into your place or mine?
Yours is rent-controlled, but mine is on the green line."
And they argued and they talked, and they finally didn't care
And they joined a small cooperative near Central Square.
And their wedding was a simple one, they wanted it that way.
And they thought a lot about the the things that they would
choose to say.
"I will live with you and love you, but I'll never call you mine."
Then the judge pronounced them married, and everyone had wine.
And a happy-ever-after life is not the kind they got,
But they tended to be happy more often than not.

Contingency and Responsibility

A wonderful teacher and alum came by to visit and we were talking about davenning options and independent minyanim in the states. Somehow it came up that she said that somewhere (a synagogue, a minyan, I forget) the davenning was not "fulfilling the needs" of the participants.

I stopped and nodded. I didn't rant really. I could have, but I didn't.

I've got 2 hours to myself tonight by waking up at 3:30 am not on purpose. I get up in the morning and exercise (a must if I want to avoid back pain), get kids up, make their lunches, get them to school and get to work. I work until I absolutely must leave, drive to pick up kids, do what they want for a couple of hours interspersed with housework, dinner, baths, reading to them, usually more work after they are in bed though sometimes a discretionary hour (computer or more exercise). On Shabbat, I take them to shul, because it's a mitzvah (veshinantam levanecha - and they don't go to religious school so I have more obligation), because it keeps them occupied, because I'm there to pray. Sometimes I learn something, I always see people I know.

I guess in the fulfilling needs department I'm with the Ballad of Erica Levine - picking up in the middle here:

"'Erica Levine will you marry me - This relationship is filling a basic need and I'd like to have it legally guaranteed.'
'Basic needs at this age should be met by you, I'm your lover not your mother, let's be careful what we do. I love you but your needs are a very different issue' then he started to cry and she handed him a tissue."

I'm grateful because my life is so contingent - people depend on me, I am committed to people and to my work, there isn't much discretionary time and there isn't so much room - wiggle room maybe, but wide open spaces aren't there. I go back and forth - I've had moments this year of real envy of my students who are in their 20s with so many options. At the same time all the things I'm most grateful for are the things I'm most committed to and those that demand the most from me.

I know this is an age and stage thing. But I also know adult life is about what we give, not about getting our needs met. I'm grateful to Miriam Weinberg, who first shared the ballad of Erica Levine with me, and to everyone who has taught me that.

Guardian Angels

Last night I remembered a song I really like and sang it to the kids. It's a song that gave me a lot of inspiration about 20 years ago. I think I especially like it because my great grandmother was named Fanny - we recently got in touch with some relatives here in Israel from her family. It's sung by the Judds - remember how great they were? I saw them in concert around 1990 I think.

Here are the lyrics. Hear it here.

A hundred year old photograph stares out from a frame / And if you'll look real close you'll see our eyes are just the same / I've never met them face to face but I still know them well / From the stories my dear grandma would tell

Elijah was a farmer he knew how to make things grow / And Fanny vowed she's follow him wherever he would go/ As things turned out they never left their small Kentucky farm/ But he kept her fed she kept him warm

They're my guardian angels I know they can see/ Every step I take they are watching over me / I might not know where I'm going but I'm sure where I come from / They're my guardian angels and I'm their special one

Sometimes when I'm tired I feel Elijah take my arm / He says keep a goin' hard work never did a body harm / And when I'm really troubled and I don't know what to do / Fanny whispers just do your best we're awful proud of you

They're my guardian angels I know they can see/ Every step I take they are watching over me / I might not know where I'm going but I'm sure where I come from / They're my guardian angels and I'm their special one

Haiti on my mind

I've been thinking all week of this calypso song written by David Rudder in 1988:
Hear it on youtube. Here's some lyrics:

When there's anguish in Port-Au-Prince
It's still Africa crying
We're outing fires in faraway places
When our neighbours are just burning.
They say the Middle Passage is gone
So how come overcrowded boats still haunt our lives?
I refuse to believe that we good people
Would forever turn our hearts and eyes
Away.

Haiti I'm sorry
We misunderstood you,
But one day we'll turn around
And look inside you.
Haiti I'm sorry
Haiti I'm so sorry...
But one day we'll turn our heads,
Restore your glory.

I'm not the only one thinking of this song. The St. Kitts newspaper also ran an editorial of this title this week.

Listen to the song, then donate!!!

כל שנה מתחילה
בסימן שאלה
כתינוק המודד צעדיו.
כמו זריחה מתגלה
על כנרת כחולה
ופניה לשמי מערב.
כל שעה מתחילה
בסימן שאלה
כמו הלב הפועם לו קצובות.
כמו גבעול ירקרק,
שצומח בלאט
ופניו לפסגות הגבוהות.


פזמון:

זה נפלא ששנה מתחילה לה
בשיר וברוח טובה
כל שנה מתחילה בסימן שאלה ואנחנו נמצא לה תשובה.



כל שניה מתחילה
בסימן שאלה
ולפני שתשיב היא תחמוק
כמו ליטוף רוח ים
שעולה מאי שם
ניגונה עוד נשמע מרחוק.

פזמון:

זה נפלא ששנה מתחילה לה
בשיר וברוח טובה
כל שנה מתחילה בסימן שאלה ואנחנו נמצא לה תשובה

hear a not so exciting version at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0l7h51zZpM