Prologue And Tradition & Main Title

A fiddler on the roof
Sounds crazy, you know
But here in our little village of Anatevka
You might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof
Trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune
Without breaking his neck

It isn't easy
You may ask
Why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?
We stay because Anatevka is our home
And how do we keep our balance?
That I can tell you in one word
Tradition

Tradition, tradition
Tradition
Tradition, tradition
Tradition

Because of our traditions
We've kept our balance for many, many years
Here in Anatevka, we have traditions for everything
How to sleep, how to eat, how to work
How to wear clothes
For instance, we always keep our heads covered
And always wear little prayer shawls
This shows our constant devotion to God

You may ask, "How did this tradition get started?"
I'll tell you, "I don't know"
But it's a tradition
And because of our traditions
Every one of us knows who he is
And what God expects him to do

Who, day and night, must scramble for a living
Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?
And who has a right as master of the house
To have the final word at home?

The papa, the papa
Tradition
The papa, the papa
Tradition

Who must know the way to make a proper home
A quiet home, a kosher home?
Who must raise a family and run the home
So papa's free to read the Holy Book?

The mama, the mama
Tradition
The mama, the mama
Tradition

At three, I started Hebrew school
At ten, I learned a trade
I hear they picked a bride for me, I hope she's pretty
And who does Mama teach
To mend and tend and fix
Preparing her to marry whoever Papa picks?

The daughters, the daughters
Tradition
The papa, mama, sons, daughters
Tradition

And in the circle of our little village
We've always had our special types
For instance, Yente, the matchmaker
Reb Nahum, the beggar
And most important of all, our beloved Rabbi

Rabbi, may I ask you a question?
Certainly, Leibish
Is there a proper blessing for the Tsar?
Blessing for the Tsar?
May God bless and keep the Tsar
Far away from us

Di, di-di, di, di, di-di, di
Di, di-di, di, di-di-di-di-di
Di, di-di, di, di, di-di, di
Di, di-di, di, di-di-di-di-di
Then there are the others in our village
They make a much bigger circle
His Honor, constable
His Honor, the priest
His Honor, many, many others
We don't bother them, and so far, they don't bother us
And among ourselves, we always get along perfectly well

Of course, there was the time when Itchak sold Avram a horse
And told him it was only six years old, when it was really 12
But now, it's all over, and everything is peaceful again

It was 12 years old
It was six

Tradition, tradition
Tradition
Tradition, tradition
Tradition

Traditions, Traditions
Without our tradition, our lives would be as shaky as
As, as a fiddler on the roof