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My Seattle Song Circle Diary

Haruo 05 Nov 18 - 11:56 AM
Haruo 05 Nov 18 - 12:24 PM
Stilly River Sage 05 Nov 18 - 04:33 PM
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Subject: My Seattle Song Circle Diary
From: Haruo
Date: 05 Nov 18 - 11:56 AM

This is a thread I'm creating in hopes of documenting what I led at the Seattle Song Circle, which I usually get to once or twice a month.

I'll start with what I led last night.


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Subject: RE: My Seattle Song Circle Diary
From: Haruo
Date: 05 Nov 18 - 12:24 PM

It was a small group, just me and the host (Eric) when I sang the first song (ALE MENTSHN ZAYNEN BRIDER), a total of five singers most of the evening (I got there at 7:01 and left about 9:15 at which point it was still going.

I led all of the following, at least twice as much material as I ever have before, owing to the low turnout.

ALE MENTSHN ZAYNEN BRIDER
(All Men Are Brothers, Yiddish and Esperanto)
Itskhak Peretz (tr. moi)

Ale mentshn zaynen brider, broyne, gele, shvartse, vayse,
Felker, lender, un klimatn, s'iz an oysgetrakhte mayse.
Vayse, shvartse, broyne, gele, misht di farbn oystsuzamen!
Ale mentshn zaynen brider, fun eyn tatn, fun eyn mamen.

Ciuj homoj estas fratoj, brunaj, flavaj, blankaj, jen, ho
Gentoj, landoj kaj klimatoj — malnovega fenomeno!
Blankaj, nigraj, brunaj, flavaj — kunmiksigu la rasaro :
Ciuj homoj estas fratoj, el gepatra unu paro!

SINDI TLAAS YÁ AANDÉI KGWAGÓOT
(Santa Claus is coming to town, in Tlingit)

Dliwkát sheeltín, l keedagaaxéek,
l sh k'ayilooshéek, yisikóo gé,
Sindi Tlaas yá aandéi kgwagóot.

Saax'w akshaaxeet, adaa yakwgwas.
áa,aasá l ushk'eiyí ka k'eiyí
Sindi Tlaas yá aandéi kgwagóot.

Askweix aagáa eeteixí,
askweix aagáa l eeteixí,
aasá l ushk'eiyí ka k'eiyí
daa k'idéin kigeestidéi.

Dliwkát sheeltín, l keedagaaxéek,
l sh k'ayilooshéek, yisikóo gé,
Sindi Tlaas yá aandéi kgwagóot.

THE PHŒNICIAN MERCHANT TAR
(from my "Jonah Oratorio", tune "The British Grenadiers"/SHEFFIELD)

Some boast of Boston whalers, and some of Heyerdahl,
Of fearsome Viking sailors, of clipper ships and tall,
But of all the world’s seagoing men the bravest man, by fa-ar,
Was that round-boat, trireme-rowing man, the Phœnician merchant tar!

Whene’er his job demänded that he cleave a hurricane,
With doughty heart undaunted he’d cleave that storm in twain
With one eye fixed on Ashtoreth and one upon the polar sta-ar,
Pulling feats to make one catch her breath, the Phœnician merchant tar!

His courage wouldn’t falter, come lightning, Leviathan or hail,
Or pirates based on Malta : he’d his faith in Ashtoreth and Baal.
He’d trust in mighty Moloch, and row from Crete to Gibraltá-ar,
With the floorboards in a toelock, the Phœnician merchant tar!

JUST KILL ME!
(from my "Jonah Oratorio", tune "Tit-Willow" from The Mikado)

’Neath a tree by a river a prophet of God
Cries, “Kill me, so kill me, just kill me!”
Would you say that this prophet’s displeasure was odd?
“Please kill me, Lord, kill me, just kill me!”
He’s been hoping for brimstone to blast them to heck,
But they’ve listened, repented, worn ashes and sack,
And poor Jonah now feels that his life is a wreck:
“Just kill me, yes, kill me, please kill me.”

He beats on his breast as he swears at the skies,
“You Ninny, You Ninny, You Ninny!”
So a worm eats his tree and it withers and dies.
“You Ninny, You Ninny, You Ninny!”
And the Lord from high heaven to Jonah speaks down,
“If you care that this tree once so green is now brown,
Shouldn’t I give a hoot about Nineveh town,
And its people and cattle so many?”

Now I’m sure just as sure as I’m sure that my name
Isn’t Jonah, or Mona, or Guinevere,
That ’twas prejudiced piety made him exclaim
With dismay at the saving of Nineveh.
For the Lord was the sort of compassionate Lord
Who loved mercy and justice, and murder abhorred,
And Who wanted farm implements made from each sword,
And Who gave a rat’s donkey for Nineveh!

LALLANS 23rd
(Translator/versifier unknown; tune: HANDFUL OF LAUREL, i.e "Streets of Laredo")

The Lord is my Shepherd, in nocht am I wantin';
In the haugh's green girse does He mak me lie doon
While mony puir straiglers are bleatin' and pantin'
By saft-flowin' burnies He leads me at noon.

When aince I had strayed far awa in the bracken,
And daidled till gloamin' cam ower a' the hills,
Nae dribble o' water my sair drooth to slacken,
And dark grow'd the nicht wi' its haars and its chills.

Awa frae the fauld, strayin' fit-sair and weary,
I thocht I had naethin' tae dae but tae dee.
He socht me and fand me in mountain hechts dreary,
He gangs by fell paths which He kens best for me.

And noo, for His name's sake, I'm dune wi' a' fearin'
Though cloods may aft gaither and soughin' win's blaw.
"Hoo this?" or "Hoo that?" -- oh, prevent me frae spearin'
His will is aye best, and I daurna say "Na".

The valley o' death winna fleg me to thread it,
Through awfu' the darkness, I weel can foresee.
Wi' His rod and His staff He wull help me to tread it,
Then wull its shadows, sae gruesome, a' flee.

Forfochen in presence o' foes that surround me,
My Shepherd a table wi' denties has spread.
The Thyme and the Myrtle blaw fragrant aroond me,
He brims a fu' cup and poors oil on my head.

Surely guidness an' mercy, despite a' my roamin'
Wull gang wi' me doon tae the brink o' the river.
Ayont it nae mair o' the eerie an' gloamin'
I wull bide in the Hame o' my Faither for ever.

MILDRED, MAUD AND MABEL

Mildred, Maude and Mabel were sitting at a table
Down at the Taft Hotel
Working on a plan to catch themselves a man to
Satisfy their minds a spell.
For twenty years and then some they'd been showin' men some
Tricks that made their motors fail,
But though they'd all had squeezes from lots of PhD'ses
They're saving themselves for Yale.

Hail, hail, hail to the boys down at Yale,
How I'd love to have one just to munch...

[and from another source]

In their thirty years of proms never once had they had qualms
That they could fail to satisfy their cravin'
Or even seem to doubt it's not reckless to hold out
For a son of old New Haven.

And as they downed their 'pousse cafe' the girls were heard to softly say:

"Though we have had our chances for overnight romances
With the Harvard and the Dartmouth male,
And though we've had a bunch in tow from Princeton Junction,
We're saving ourselves for Yale.

"For thirty years and then some we've been showing men some
Tricks that made their motors fail;
And though we've all had squeezes from lots of P H D-ses
We're saving ourselves for Yale.

Ho ho ho! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail to the boys up at Yale!
How we'd like to have one just to muss
Some[one] who gives his all for the blue,
But would have enough left over for us, ho ho ho!

How we sigh for an old Eli, and let us add that we'd gladly die
For what's in a sweater with a letter
And when fin'lly married we lie, 'twill be with an Eli
'Cause we're saving ourselves FOR YALE!

BOW, BOW, YE NINEVITIC MASSES
(From my "Jonah Oratorio"; tune "Bow, Bow, Ye Lower Middle Classes", from Iolanthe)

Bow, bow, ye Ninevitic masses,
Bow, bow, in sackcloth, bow in ashes,
Bow, ye camels, bow, ye asses:
Tan-tan-ta-ra, tzing-boom!

Fast, fast, ye Ninevitic masses,
Fast, fast in sackcloth, fast in ashes,
Fast, ye camels, fast, ye asses:
Tan-tan-ta-ra, tzing-boom tzing-boom!
Tan-tan-ta-ra, tzing-boom tzing-boom!
Tan-tan-ta-ra, tzing-boom tzing-boom!

Save us from certain mass destruction!
Save earth from sudden liposuction!
Save, save the camels! Save, save the asses!
Tan-ta-ra, ta ta ta ta ta ta, Tan-ta-ra, ta ta ta ta ta ta,
Tan-ta-ra, ta ta ta ta ta ta, Tan-ta-ra, ta ta ta ta ta ta,
Tan-ta-ra, ta ta, Tan-ta-ra ta ta, Tan-ta-ra ta ta, Tan-ta-ra, ta ta,
Tan-ta-ra, ta, tzing-boom, tzing-boom!

Bow, ye Ninevitic masses,
Fast in sackcloth, fast in ashes,
Bow, ye Ninevitic masses!
Save the camels! Save the asses!
Tan-tan-ta-ra, tan-tan-ta-ra, tan-ta-ra, tan-ta-ra,
Tan-ta-ra, tan-ta-ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra! Tan-ta-ra! Tan-ta-ra!
          (Tzing-boom!)


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Subject: RE: My Seattle Song Circle Diary
From: Stilly River Sage
Date: 05 Nov 18 - 04:33 PM

Good idea. I have lots of old stuff that I should look into, if you're interested. Collected by John Dwyer.


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