Paul Libson
Fiddler on the Roof/Anatevka
A little bit of this, a little bit of that.A pot, a pan, a broom, a hat.Someone should have set a match to this place years ago.A bench, a tree.So, what's a stove? Or a house?People who pass through Anatevka don't even know they've been here.A stick of wood. A piece of cloth.What do we leave? Nothing much.Only Anatevka.Anatevka, Anatevka.Underfed, overworked Anatevka.Where else could Sabbath be so sweet?Anatevka, Anatevka.Intimate, obstinate Anatevka,Where I know everyone I meet.Soon I'll be a stranger in a strange new place,Searching for an old familiar faceFrom Anatevka.I belong in Anatevka,Tumble-down, work-a-day Anatevka.Dear little village, little town of mine
From Letras Mania