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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.
