Audrey Welsh Program Notes, April 25 2021

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Audrey Welsh, mezzo-soprano Dr. Andreea Muţ, piano Bachelor of Music in Voice Performance, Senior Degree Recital Texts, Translations, and Program Notes Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) Recognized worldwide for his timeless symphonic, choral, operatic, concert and chamber music, Austrian prodigy, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, is remembered as one of the most prolific composers of the Classical period despite only living to be thirty-five years old. The musical style of young Mozart received influence from the tours of western Europe organized for he and his sister by his father and fellow musician, Leopold Mozart. On these tours, Mozart performed for royalty, gained fame from his incredible musical gift, and was exposed to new ideas and techniques that would lead to the creation of his iconic style. His music can be identified by its melodic beauty, elegance, and rich harmonic texture. The character of his music draws from Italian opera as well as Austrian and German instrumental traditions. “Alma grande e nobil core” (K. 578) is a “suitcase” or insertion aria written by Mozart in 1789. The term “suitcase” aria describes the practice developed in the 17th century of including extra arias in operas, sometimes by different composers, to serve the strengths of a specific singer’s voice or to augment a role. This concert aria was written to be included in the role of Madama Laura for Domenico Cimarosa’s comic intermezzo, I due baroni di Rocca Azzura. Mozart wrote this aria for soprano, Louise Villeneuve, the same singer for which he wrote the role of Dorabella in Così fan tutte. The text of the aria is written by the same librettist of the opera, Giuseppe Palomba, and in performance would replace the Act 1 aria bearing the same name. In this aria, the leading lady heroically scorns the men of the show and establishes herself as a woman deserving respect and striving for vengeance.

Alma grande e nobil core, K. 578

A great soul and noble heart

Alma grande e nobil core Le tue pari ognor disprezza Sono dama al fasto avvezza E so farmi rispettar.

A great soul and noble heart Always scorns those like you. I am a lady accustomed to pomp and know how to make myself respected.

Va, favella, a quell’ingrato, Gli dirai che fida io sono. Ma non merita perdono, Si, mi voglio vendicar, Ingrato, non merita perdono, Si mi voglio vendicar.

Go, tell, to that ungrateful one, That I have remained faithful. But that he does not merit my forgiveness, Yes, I will have vengeance The ingrate, does not merit forgiveness, Yes, I will have vengeance.

Text by Giuseppe Palomba (1769-1825)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop


Ernest Chausson (1855-1899) French Romantic composer, Ernest Chausson was born into a wealthy family in Paris, France on January 20th, 1855. Chausson originally studied law to appease his family but later decided to study music at the Paris Conservatoire under the tutelage of Jules Massenet and César Franck, with whom he had a close friendship. The beauty of Chausson’s style is best showcased in smaller forms that lend themselves more to intense and subjective expression. Chausson’s works draw influence from Wagner in their span of line and texture while also preserving the sophistication and nuance of the French style. Having written about forty mélodies over the course of his career, he was not a terribly prolific composer, but this could be due to his tragic death in a bicycle accident at forty-four years old. This program includes four mélodies: three from Chausson’s Op. 2 (“Les papillons”, “Hébé” and “Sérénade italienne”) and one from his Op. 19, Poème de l’amour et la mer (“Le temps des lilas”). The lively “Les papillons” musically transports the listener to a world of fluttering butterflies with an energetic, repeated piano figure that lasts the duration of the piece. The last lines of the piece interrupt the momentum before the piano returns and, again, mimics a butterfly flying off in the distance. The simple “Hébé” features Chausson’s tendency to use altered scale degrees as it is written in the Phrygian mode. As per Greek mythology, Hébé is the cupbearer to the gods and a symbol of eternal youth. The transparent musical texture matches the melancholy central idea of the mélodie: longing for faded youth and innocence. “Le temps des lilas” features the poetry of a close friend of Chausson’s, Maurice Boucher. The sentimental text compliments the aesthetic of Chausson’s vocal melody that laments the loss of a bygone love. The symbolic inclusion of flowers (lilacs, roses, carnations) instills a sense of deep loss and nostalgia and is especially appropriate of this period. “Sérénade italienne” takes place on an evening boat ride underneath the stars where two lovers “échanger nos âmes” or “exchange [their] souls”. The rocking texture in the piano throughout the piece represents the motion of the waves and the boat. The musical intensity builds in accordance with the poetry until a ritard in the final line followed by an ascending flourish in the piano.


Les papillons, Op. 2, No. 3

The butterflies

Les papillons couleur de neige Volent par essaims sur la mer; Beaux papillons blancs, quand pourrai-je Prendre le bleu chemin de l’air?

The butterflies the color of snow Fly in swarms over the sea; Beautiful white butterflies when can I Take to the blue path of the air?

Savez-vous, ô belle des belles, Ma bayadère aux yeux de jais, S’ils me voulaient prêter leurs ailes, Dites, savez-vous, où j’irais?

Do you know, oh fairest of the fair, My dancing-girl with eyes of jet-black If they would lend me their wings, Tell me, do you know, where I would fly?

Sans prendre un seul baiser aux roses, À travers vallons et forêts, J’irais à vos lèvres micloses, Fleur de mon âme, et j’y mourrais.

Without taking a single kiss from the roses, Across valleys and forests, I would fly to your half-closed lips, Flower of my soul, and there I would die.

Text by Théophile Gautier (1811-1872)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop

Hébé, Op. 2, No. 6


Les yeux baissés, rougissante et candide, Vers leur banquet quand Hébé s’avançait, Les dieux charmés tendaient leur coupe vide, Et de nectar I’enfant la remplissait.

Her eyes lowered, blushing and innocent, Towards their banquet, Hebe advanced, The enchanted gods held their empty cups, And the child replenished them with nectar.

Nous tous aussi, quand passe la jeunesse, Nous lui tendons notre coupe à l’envi. Quel est le vin qu’y verse la déesse? Nous l’ignorons; il enivre et ravit.

We also, when youth passes, Offer our cup to her at every opportunity. What is this wine that the goddess pours? We do not know; it intoxicates and delights.

Ayant souri dans sa grâce immortelle, Hébé s’éloigne; on la rappelle en vain. Longtemps encor sur la route éternelle, Notre œil en pleurs suit l’échanson divin.

Having smiled with her immortal grace, Hébé passes on; one calls her back in vain. For a long time still on the eternal road, Our weeping eyes follow the divine cup-bearer.

Text by Louise Ackermann (1813-1890)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop


Le temps des lilas, Op. 19, No. 3

The time of lilacs

Le temps des lilas et le temps des roses Ne reviendra plus à ce printemps-ci; Le temps des lilas et le temps des roses Est passé, le temps des œillets aussi.

The time of lilacs and the time of roses Will not return this spring; The time of lilacs and the time of roses Has passed, the time of carnations also.

Le vent a changé, les cieux sont moroses, Et nous n’irons plus courir, et cueillir Les lilas en fleur et les belles roses; Le printemps est triste et ne peut fleurir.

The wind has changed, the skies are sullen, And we will not go around again, and gather The lilacs in bloom and the beautiful roses; The spring is sad and cannot flourish.

Oh! joyeux et doux printemps de l’année, Qui vins, l’an passé, nous ensoleiller, Notre fleur d’amour est si bien fanée, Las! Que ton baiser ne peut l’éveiller!

Oh! Joyous and sweet spring of the year, Which came, last year, and filled us with sunlight, Our flower of love has faded so much, Alas! So that even your kiss cannot reawaken it!

Et toi, que fais-tu? Pas de fleurs écloses, Point de gai soleil ni d’ombrages frais Le temps des lilas et le temps des roses Avec notre amour est mort à jamais.

And you, what are you doing? No more blooming flowers, No gay sunshine and no cool shadows; The time of lilacs and the time of roses With our love is dead forever.

Text by Maurice Boucher (1855-1929)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop

Sérénade italienne, Op. 2, No. 5

Italian Serenade

Partons en barque sur la mer Pour passer la nuit aux étoiles. Vois, il souffle juste assez d'air Pour enfler la toile des voiles.

We depart in a boat upon the sea To pass the night beneath the stars. Look, it’s blowing the air just enough To swell the canvas of the sails.

Le vieux pêcheur italien Et ses deux fils, qui nous conduisent, Écoutent mais n'entendent rien Aux mots que nos bouches se disent.

The old Italian fisherman And his two sons, who take us out, Hear but do not understand anything Of the words that our mouths say.

Sur la mer calme et sombre. Vois! Nous pouvons échanger nos âmes, Et nul ne comprendra nos voix, Que la nuit, le ciel, et les lames.

On the calm and dark sea. Look! We can exchange our souls, And no one will understand our voices, But the night, the sky, and the waves.

Text by Paul Bourget (1852-1935)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop


Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) Born in Hamburg, German composer Johannes Brahms is an undisputed compositional innovator of the 19th century. Along with Franz Schubert, Robert Schumann, and Hugo Wolf, he helped develop “High Romantic Lied”. Lieder is the term used to describe German art songs coming from the late 18th century and what would become a central vocal genre of the 19th century Romantic period. The innovations Brahms brought to the genre include highlighted melodic and bass lines within a classic tonal structure, symmetry of form, and use of strophic folksong with added variations. Brahms was unique in that he was not particular in his choice of poetry. For Brahms, the development of musical ideas took precedence over synthesis with the poetry. There is often repetition of text and inaccurate text settings lacking prosody present in his works to accommodate the realization of his musical elements. “Sappische Ode” features the characteristic syncopation of Brahms accompanying a calm and legato vocal line. It is strophic in form with variations in the final line of each stanza. Baltic poet, Hans Schmidt, was a friend of Brahms and the title of his poem refers to Archaic Greek poet, Sappho. “Verzagen” is set with an unrelenting bass line of ascending arpeggios and doubled dotted rhythms in the right hand to create an atmosphere of tension. It is followed by tremolo figures that continue throughout the piece to add to the feeling of uneasiness. It is also strophic in form with a variation in the third stanza. “Von ewiger Liebe” is one of Brahms’ most frequently performed pieces. The poem tells the story of a boy escorting his beloved home one evening when he suggests that the girl might be experiencing shame on behalf of their relationship. The piece is divided into two sections, the boy’s section, in minor, where he expresses his reservations about the girl’s love for him and the girl’s section, in the parallel major, in which she quells the boy’s fears of unrequited love and promises that their love “muss ewig bestehn” or “must endure forever”. The repetition of “Unsere Liebe” at the conclusion of the piece features a hemiola rhythm, typical of Brahms, that propels the piece to a dramatic climax before gradually returning to a sense of calm that drives home the sentiment of the girl’s affirmation of love.


Sapphische Ode, Op. 94, No. 4

Sappho’s Ode

Rosen brach ich nachts mir am dunklen Hage, süsser hauchten Duft sie als je am Tage; Doch verstreuten reich die bewegten Äste Tau, der mich nässte.

I picked roses at night From the dark hedge, The fragrance they breathed Was sweeter than by day; But the stirred branches richly shed Dew, which moistened me.

Auch der Küsse Duft mich wie nie berückte, Die ich nachts vom Strauch deiner Lippen pflückte; Doch auch dir, bewegt im Gemüt gleich jenen, Tauten die Tränen.

Also the fragrance of your kisses Enchanted me as never before, Which I plucked at night From the bush of your lips; But from you, Moved in the soul like the roses, Fell the dew of tears.

Text by Hans Schmidt (1856-1923)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop

Verzagen, Op. 72, No. 4


Ich sitz am Strande der rauschenden See Und suche dort nach Ruh, Ich schaue dem Treiben der Wogen Mit dumpfer Ergebung zu.

I sit on the shore of the rushing sea And search for peace there, I look at the bustle of the waves With dull resignation.

Die Wogen rauschen zum Strande hin, Sie schäumen und vergehn, Die Wolken, die Winde darüber, Die kommen und verwehn.

The waves are rushing towards the shore, They foam and dissipate, The clouds, the winds above, They come and blow away.

Du ungestümes Herz, sei still Und gib dich doch zur Ruh; Du sollst mit Winden und Wogen Dich trösten, was weinest du?

You impetuous heart, be still And give yourself peace, With the winds and the waves, You should console yourself, why do you weep?

Text by Karl von Lemcke (1831-1913)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop


Von ewiger Liebe, Op. 43, No. 1

Of eternal love

Dunkel, wie dunkel in Wald und in Feld! Dark, how dark it is in the forest and the field! Abend schon ist es, nun schweiget die Welt. It is already night, the world is now silent. Nirgend noch Licht und nirgend noch Rauch, Nowhere a light and nowhere smoke, Ja, und die Lerche sie schweiget nun auch. Yes, and the lark is now silent also. Kommt aus dem Dorfe der Bursche heraus, The lad comes out of the village, Gibt das Geleit der Geliebten nach Haus, accompanying his beloved home, Führt sie am Weidengebüsche vorbei, He leads her past the willow grove, Redet so viel und so mancherlei: Talking so much and of so many things: “Leidest du Schmach und betrübest du dich, Leidest du Schmach von andern um mich, Werde die Liebe getrennt so geschwind, Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind. Scheide mit Regen und scheide mit Wind, Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind.”

“If you are grieving and suffering shame, If you are suffering disgrace Before others because of me, Let our love end as quickly, As quickly as we were once united. Depart with the rain and depart with the wind, As quickly as we were once united.”

Spricht das Mägdelein, Mägdelein spricht: “Unsere Liebe sie trennet sich nicht! Fest ist der Stahl und das Eisen gar sehr, Unsere Liebe ist fester noch mehr. Eisen und Stahl, man schmiedet sie um, Unsere Liebe, wer wandelt sie um? Eisen und Stahl, sie können zergehn, Unsere Liebe muss ewig bestehn!”

Says the maiden, the maiden says: “Our love cannot be separated! Steel is firm and iron even more so, Our love is firmer still. Iron and steel, One can forge them into something else, Our love, who can change it? Iron and steel, they can rust away, Our love, must endure forever!”

Text by Josef Wenzig (1807-1876)

Translation by Bard Suverkrop


Francesco Santoliquido (1883-1971) A lesser-known, Italian composer of the early 20th century, Francesco Santoliquido, was born in San Giorgio a Cremano, near Napoli, studied at the prestigious Liceo musicale di Santa Cecilia in Rome and graduated in 1908. Upon his graduation, he moved to Tunisia and split his time between the village of Hammamet in Tunisia and Rome. It was there that he opened a concert society and a music school before he settled in Anacapri in 1923 where he would live till his death in 1971. In his lifetime, he composed four operas, one ballet, numerous symphonies, orchestral suites, pieces for solo piano, and about twenty-six songs for voice and piano, four of which are featured in this program. His obscurity can be attributed to his association with racism and fascism after he published a series of controversial essays beginning in 1937 and continuing into 1938. Although not confirmed to be the situation for Santoliquido, it was not uncommon for composers of this time period to align themselves with Mussolini to receive larger stipends from the Italian government. His decision to live in an isolated village (Hammamet) for a good portion of his life coupled with his divisive political opinions account for his ostracization from the progressive musical community. Santoliquido’s style is neoromantic with heavy influence from Wagner, Debussy, and Strauss, especially in his earlier works like those featured in this program. Composed in 1907 and published in 1908, I canti della sera, or “The songs of the evening” were written just before Santoliquido’s graduation from Liceo musicale di Santa Cecilia and thirty years before his contentious political ideas were made public. The text, also written by Santoliquido, is incredibly expressive and vividly describes an individual speaking to their lover amidst natures scenes of the evening and dawn. “I. L’assiolo canta” invites the listener to embark on a night full of mystery accompanied by the sound of the horned owl singing. The horned owl is a symbol of courage, beauty, and a noted positive omen concerning love. The line of “perchè piansi una triste sera che tu non c’eri” or “why I cried one sad evening when you were not there” foreshadows the reminiscence of that specific evening in the third song of this cycle. The colorful image of “la luna nasce tutta rossa” or “the moon appear[ing] all red” sets the stage for the second song of this cycle, “II. Alba di luna sul bosco”. The individual admires the picturesque scene around them and delights in the silence. “III. Tristezza crepuscolare” tells the story of the “triste sera” or “sad evening” mentioned in the first song of this cycle. The theme of “campane” or “bells” is present throughout and carries into the fourth song of the cycle as well. “IV. L’incontro” is the recounting of the first meeting of the individual with their beloved and develops over the course of the piece into pleading for their love to be reignited.


I canti della sera

The Songs of the Evening

I. L’assiolo canta

The horned owl sings

Vieni! Sul bosco splende serena la notte dell'estate e l'assiolo canta. Vieni, ti volgio dir quel che non dissi mai. E sul sentiero fioriscono le stelle, magici fiori.

Come! On the forest shines serenely The summer night and the horned owl sings. Come, I want to tell you What I have never said before. And on the path, the stars flourish like Magical flowers.

Inoltriamoci insieme e là nel folto ti dirò perchè piansi una triste sera che tu non c'eri. Inoltriamoci insieme. Un mistero c'invita, Odi: l'assiolo canta.

Let us go together And there in the thicket I will tell you Why I cried one sad evening When you were not there. Let us go together. A mystery invites us, Listen: the horned owl sings.

Text by Francesco Santoliquido

Translation adapted by Audrey Welsh

II. Alba di luna sul bosco

Moonrise over the forest

Guarda, la luna nasce tutta rossa come una fiamma congelata nel cielo, Lo stagno la riflette e l'acqua mossa dal vento par rabbrividire al gelo.

Look, the moon appears all red Like a flame frozen in the sky, The pond reflects it And the water moves from the wind Like shivering in the cold.

Che pace inmensa! il bosco addormentato, si riflette nello stagno. Quanto silenzio intorno! Dimmi: È un tramonto o un'alba per l'amor?

What immense peace! The sleeping forest, Is reflected in the pond. How much silence is around! Tell me: is it a sunset Or a dawn for love?

Text by Francesco Santoliquido

Translation adapted by Audrey Welsh


III. Tristezza crepuscolare

Twilight sadness

È la sera. Dalla terra bagnata sale l'odore delle foglie morte. È l'ora delle campane, è l'ora in cui respiro il vano profumo d'un amore passato. E sogno e piango.

It is the evening. Out of the damp earth rises the smell Of dead leaves. It is the hour of bells, It is the hour in which I breathe The faded scent Of a past love. And I dream and I cry.

È la sera. È la sera, una sera piena di campane, una sera piena di profumi, una sera piena di ricordi, e di tristezze morte.

It is the evening. It is the evening, an evening full of bells, An evening full of scents, An evening full of memories, And of dead sadness.

Piangete, piangete campane della sera. Empite tutto il cielo di malinconia. Ah! Ah! Piangete ancor!

Cry, cry, you bells of the evening. Fill the whole sky with melancholy. Ah! Ah! Cry again!

Questa è l’ora dei ricordi, è l’ora in cui l’antica fiamma s’accende nel cuore disperatamente e lo brucia, e lo brucia.

This is the hour of memories, It is the hour in which the old flame Ignites in my desperate heart And it burns, and it burns.

Campane. Odore di foglie morte. Tristezze dissepolte!

Bells. The scent of dead leaves. Sadness unearthed!

Text by Francesco Santoliquido

Translation adapted by Audrey Welsh


IV. L’incontro

The meeting

Non mi ricordo più quando noi c'incontrammo la prima volta ma fu certo una lontana sera tutta soffusa di pallide tristezze lungo un benigno mar!

I do not remember anymore When we met For the first time But it was certainly a distant evening Entirely suffused with pale sadness Along a mild sea!

A noi giungevano di lontano suoni di campane e di greggi ed una pace strana ci veniva dal mare. Questo rammento!

We heard from afar the sounds Of bells and flocks And a strange peace came to us from the sea. This I remember!

Cosa dicemmo quel giorno, Lo rammentate? Io non ricordo più. Ma che importa? Oggi mi fiorisce in cuore la dolcezza appassita di quell'ora lontana.

What did we say that day? Do you remember? I do not remember anymore. But what does it matter? Today, my heart blooms with Withered sweetness of that time long ago.

E m'è dolce stringere nella mia la vostra mano bianca. e parlarvi d'amor, anch'oggi vengono di lontano suoni di campane e di greggi e anch'oggi il mar come allora ci sorride lontano.

And it is sweet for me to hold Your beloved hand in mine. And to speak to you of love, Even still today, they come from afar, the sounds of bells and of flocks Even still today, the sea smiles at us, like before, From afar.

Ma oggi forse m'amate un poco, non sorridete più. Ah! La vostra mano trema. Se oggi le belle labbra voi mi darete non scorderemo più questa dolce ora d'amor!

But maybe, today you love me a little... You are not smiling anymore. Ah! Your hand trembles. If today, you give me your beautiful lips We will never forget this sweet hour Of love!

Text by Francesco Santoliquido

Translation adapted by Audrey Welsh


William Bolcom (b. 1938) Pulitzer Prize winning, American composer, William Bolcom is known for his unique, communicative, and accessible style. He composes across genre, finding success in opera, symphonies, chamber pieces, concerti, and songs for voice and piano. Bolcom holds degrees from the University of Washington, Mills College, and Stanford University. He possesses a mastery of classical techniques and American popular idioms found in jazz and pop. With this, he blurs the lines of classical and popular music and creates engaging compositions. His famous collaborations with author Arnold Weinstein resulted in the famed Cabaret Songs featured in this program as well as other works for the larger stage. Arnold Weinstein (1927-2005) American poet, librettist, and playwright, Arnold Weinstein was a New York native, Rhodes scholar, and Navy veteran. He was most well-known for his work on and off Broadway and collaborations with composers like William Bolcom, Philip Glass, and Henry Threadgill. In addition to his productive writing career, Weinstein served on the faculty for playwriting at Yale University and Columbia University. Selections from Cabaret Songs (1977-1985) “Cabaret” is defined as entertainment held in a nightclub or restaurant whilst the audience casually watches, eats, or drinks. With this in mind, they are very appropriate for the setting in which they will be performed today; thank you, Ovations Night Club! Bolcom composed Cabaret Songs (1977-1985) for his wife, mezzo-soprano, Joan Morris. Arnold Weinstein describes this collection of texts as an “elusive form of theater-poetry-lieder-pop-tavernacularprayer”. Each piece featured in this program portrays a vastly different character. “Song of Black Max” is based on the true recollections of post-WWII era painter, Willem de Kooning’s memories of the illusive and mysterious man known as Black Max in Amsterdam. In “Toothbrush Time” a young woman bemoans a one-night-stand that will never end and “Waitin” provides a calm palette cleanser from the witty and energetic pieces preceding. To conclude, the spirited “Amor” features a dancing Pachanga rhythm and details the day of a woman whose dashingly good looks bring charming chaos to a town she visits.


Song of Black Max He was always dressed in black, long black jacket, broad black hat, sometimes a cape, and as thin as rubber tape: Black Max. He would raise that big black hat to the big-shots of the town who raised their hats right back, never knew they were bowing to Black Max. I’m talking about night in Rotterdam when the right night people of all the town would find what they could in the night neighborhood of Black Max. There were women in the windows with bodies for sale dressed in curls like little girls in little dollhouse jails. When the women walked the street with the beds upon their backs, who was lifting up his brim to them? Black Max! And there were looks for sale, the art of the smile — (only certain people walked that mystery mile; artists, charlatans, vaudevillians, men of mathematics, acrobatics, and civilians).

There was knitting needle music from a lady organ grinder with all her sons behind her, Marco, Vito, Benno (was he strong! Though he walked like a woman) and Carlo, who was five. He must be still alive! Ah, poor Marco had the syph, and if you didn’t take the terrible cure those days you went crazy and died and he did. And at the coffin before they closed the lid, Who raised his lid? Black Max. I was climbing on a train one day going far away to the good old U.S.A. When I heard some music underneath the tracks. Standing there beneath the bridge, long black jacket, broad black hat, playing the harmonica, one hand free, to lift that hat to me: Black Max, Black Max, Black Max.

Text by Arnold Weinstein (1927-2005)


Toothbrush Time


It’s toothbrush time, Ten a.m. again and toothbrush time. Last night at half past nine it seemed O.K. But in the light of day not so fine at toothbrush time.

Waitin’ waitin’ I’ve been waitin’ Waitin’ waitin’ all my life. That light keeps on hiding from me, But it someday just might bless my sight. Waitin’ waitin’ waitin;

Now he’s crashing round my bathroom, Now he’s reading my degree, Perusing all my pills, Reviewing all my ills, And he comes out smelling like me.

Text by Arnold Weinstein (1927-2005)

Now he advances on my kitchen, Now he raids every shelf Till from the pots and pans and puddles and debris Emerges three eggs all for himself. Oh, how I’d be ahead if I’d stood out of bed; I wouldn’t sit here grieving Waiting for the wonderful moment of his leaving At toothbrush time, toothbrush time, Ten a.m. again and toothbrush time. I know it’s sad to be alone, It’s so bad to be alone, Still, I should’ve known That I’d be glad to be alone. I should’ve known, I should’ve known! Never should have picked up the phone and called him. “Hey, uh, listen, uhm … Uh, I’ve got to, uh ... Oh, you gotta go too? So glad you understand. And ...” By the way, did you say Nine tonight again? See you then. Toothbrush time! Text by Arnold Weinstein (1927-2005)


Amor It wasn’t the policeman’s fault in all the traffic roar Instead of shouting halt when he saw me he shouted Amor. Even the ice-cream man (free ice-creams by the score) Instead of shouting Butter Pecan one look at me he shouted Amor. All over town it went that way Ev’rybody took off the day Even philosophers understood How good was the good ‘cuz I looked so good! The poor stopped taking less The rich stopped needing more. Instead of shouting no and yes Both looking at me shouted Amor. My stay in town was cut short I was dragged to court. The judge said I disturbed the peace And the jury gave him what for! The judge raised his hand And instead of Desist and Cease Judgie came to the stand, took my hand And whispered Amor. Night was turning into day I walked alone away. Never see that town again. But as I passed the church house door Instead of singing Amen The choir was singing Amor. Text by Arnold Weinstein (1927-2005)


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