אַװרײמל דער מאַרװיכער
Mordkhe Gebirtig [Mordechai Gebirtig] / מרדכי געבירטיגLa versione in inglese e yiddish di Daniel Kahn and the Painted... | |
AVREML THE SWINDLER | AVREML THE FILCHER AVREML DER MARVIKHER |
In my youth I had no home to live in, On the street I was harassed and dr iven, In all that t ime no kind word came my way. On my own with no mother's car ing, Among strangers, schooled in gr ime I became a very winning guy | On a heym bin ikh yung geblibn s’hot di noyt mikh aroys getribn ven ikh hob keyn draytsn yor gehat in der fremd, vayt fun mames oygn s’hot in shmuts mikh di gas dertsoygn gevorn iz fun mir a voyler yat |
I am Avreml , they call me the swindler, In wheeling and dealing I'm always the winner, From the very first unt il the day I drop dead, I'm on a treadmill in pursuit of bread, oy, oy, I don't hang out in the "market ; with the fellows, No, I lie in wait , the filthy rich to collar, My greatest joy is to make off with their dollars, I am Avreml , quite a winning-guy. | Kh’bin Avreml der feyikster marvikher a groyser kinstler kh’arbet laykht & zikher dos ershte mol kh’vel s’gedenken bizn toyt arayn in tfise far lakhenen a broyt kh’for nit af marken vi yene proste yatn kh’tsup nor bay karge shmutsike magnatn kh’bin zikh mekhaye ven kh’tap aza magnat ikh bin Avreml gor a voyler yat |
In strangers" hear t s I found no mercy, A piece of bread somet imes a beggar would throw me, The well-to-do whose future was all set Would turn their backs and toss their heads in scorn: "Go steal your food, to thievery you were born" A thief I have been, such a winning chap. | On the street, hard to make a living ya beg for bread, a poor man might be giving but all you people sick from being fed you’d rather turn me out & lock your doors you scorn us all as thieves & thugs & whores better a good crook than good & dead |
I am Avreml , they call me the swindler, In wheeling and dealing I'm always the winner, When yet a young lad, to pr ison I was sent , I came out a menace with a rare talent, oy, oy, I don't hang out in the market with the fellows, No, I lie in wait , the filthy rich to collar. I love gent le people, k ind glances and all that , I am Avreml , quite a winning guy. | Call me Avreml the finest little filcher a master artist, you never see me pilfer some little shit you deposited in jail comes out a maven whose talent never fails I ain’t some punk who steals from those who can’t afford it I just rob the stingy filthy rich who hoard it the rich are leeches sucking money day & night I’m just a flea who takes a bite, ain’t I all right? |
Not for long can my story go on, Broken, ailing, from year s in pr ison, Just one litt le hope st ill have in my hear t - When death comes and I'm no more dr iven, Upon my tombstone let there be wr itten With the biggest letters made from gold: | Avreml won’t live long at all he’s sick from the streets & prison walls but on his gravestone etched in gold he should have his story told “here lies Avreml, king of the thieves a man whom all the world should grieve he could’ve been a purer soul but hunger is beyond control & he never had no ma or pa & the streets, they have their own law this crooked prince zol zayn gebentsht here lies Avreml, what a mentsh. |
Here lies Avreml , they call h im the swindler, A man of renown, always a winner, A very fine ane man, with heart , with feelings, A pure-souled man, a lone wolf against his will , oy, oy Who never did know a motherjs love and car ing, Who never did choose the street for his upbringing, Who never a child nor a father did have, Here lies Avreml , that winning guy. | Do ligt Avreml der feyikster marvikher a mentsh a groyser geven volt fun im zikher a mentsh a fayner mit harts mit a gefil a mentsh a reyner vos got aleyn nor vil ven iber im volt gevakht a mames oygn ven s’hot di finstere gas im nit dertsoygn ven nokh als kind er a tatn volt gehat do ligt Avreml, yener voyler yat. |