Songtext von 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 Face From Anatevka. I Belong in Anatevka, Tumble-down, Work-a-day Anatevka. Dear Little Village, Little Town of Mine.