The Official Jewish Songbook



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I Used to Think


I used to think my mother was a Shabbos Queen -
She’d stand so regally, with royal grace.
And whisper to the King of the Universe, Hashem
From her very sheltered place, behind her covered face.

I know that she’s not asking Him for diamonds,


My noble mother doesn’t ask for gold.
She’s asking Him to help me study all the Torah’s ways,
And to let her eyes behold the joy as she grows old.

Oh, when I grow up, no matter what life brings


Hashem will grant me the strength I need to handle it,
And I will walk by the light of a thousand Friday nights

And the tefillos of my mother who always has her candles lit.

My mother turns our home into a palace
Her wisdom and her warmth both make it so,
She bentches licht, and I can hear her tender feelings speak
Without any voice or words, but the kiss on my cheek.

My mother’s candle light is so gentle and so soft,


It smoothes away her forehead’s every crease.
And suddenly, the troubles of the past week disappear -
All our fears and worries cease in our moment of peace.

I think of how it hurts my mother when I’m doing wrong,


When I do not let my good side show.
But this week I decide I will make my mother proud -
Because how else will she know that I love her so?

Each mitzvah that I do will be a diamond,


Each smile of mine will be a precious stone
To put into the crown she seems to wear each Friday night -
And when I am fully grown, I’ll wear a crown of my own.

Shabbos Yerusholayim


Walking through the streets,

I feel my face aglow -

Exhilaration in my heart.

That curious elation has returned again

I’m back with what I feel a part.
The siren sounds, and all around a peace descends

Relieving worries of the week.

The Kosel stands, a wall so grand receiving friends -

They’ve come to pray for all they seek.


CHORUS:

Please come and spend with us a Shabbos

So come and feel the kedusha, let it in!

We surely hope you’ll see

That special quality

There’s nothing like a Shabbos Yerusholayim!


Let’s rejoice, we know it’s coming,

We wait so anxiously till it begins.

We’ll spend this holy day

A sacred city’s way

We call it Shabbos Kodesh Yerusholayim!
Something’s in the air, we can’t describe it well,

Ancient wonder all around -

Stirring up the souls of all who travel there,

They’re warmed by beauty that they’ve found.


Zmiros fill the air with a tranquility,

While strolling through the quiet street.

Shabbos has that simple soft serenity,

Yerusholayim makes it all complete!


Many of our nations, feel no agitation

Treating Shabbos disrespectfully.

Stop the desecration! No more violation!

Preserve the city’s sanctity.


Shabbos Comes on Friday Night


(T.T.T.O. Adon Olam)

Shabbos comes on Friday night

We light the candles

They burn so bright

We bless the wine

It tastes so fine

We eat the challah

It’s shabbat time!


Olive Oil


I’m Olive Oil the Sailoress

Before I eat I bless.

On Friday night

The candles I light,

I’m Olive Oil the Sailoress.

Yankie Bear


Y-A-N-K-I-EB-E-A-R

Yankie Bear!

And if you dare -

Of the Shabbos He does take great care.


He always goes to Shul

Even if it’s far

Y-A-N-K-I-E B-E-A-R!

Shabbos is Coming


Shabbos is coming; we’re so happy,

We’re gonna sing and shout out loud.

Six days a week we wait for Shabbos,

A gift from Hashem, and we’re so proud.


So, let’s shout together, “Shabbos!”

Let’s sing together, “Shabbos!”

Whisper together, “Shabbos!”

Tell it to the world, “Shabbos!”


Among the Smiles


Among the smiles, among the tears,
Of my childhood sweet and bitter years,
There’s a picture that my memory fondly frames -
And through it shines, two tiny flames.

My mother’s Shabbos candles


Which made our home so bright,
Which faithfully she kindled
With a prayer on Friday night.

And then around the table


We gathered and we heard,
My father chant the kiddush
His heart in every word.

Our humble home became a mansion


In that mystic glow,
Our hearts were filled with hopes and dreams
And thoughts of long ago.

And yet the tragic stories


Of Israel’s darkest night,
Will never dim the glory
Of my mother’s Shabbos light.

By Mir Is Shabbos Shain


(T.T.T.O. By mir bistu shain)

By mir is Shabbos shain,

No weekday is the same,

I’ll always hold it

Always keep it dear.


Ba-da-da-da-da-da
Di shayne lichtelach
Di klayne chalalach

The Callah Lady


There is a wealthy lady

Who lives in my neighborhood,

She has a cook to stock every shelf.

But Wednesday night she yells “Hooray”

And she shoots her cooks away,

Because she wants to bake the challah herself.


You can tell that baking challah is her pride and joy,

It’s a mitzvah she won’t ever shirk.

Smells so good that I suppose -

That if you follow your nose -

You will find the challah lady at work.
And she kneads, kneads, kneads her challah dough.

The only thing she needs is challah dough.


Now the challah lady had a dinner to attend,

With the wealthiest people in town.

“Well if you want to attend,”

Said her fine and fancy friend,

“Then you need, you need, you need a new gown.”
But the store would only sell the gowns on Wednesday night.

The challah lady said, “I cannot go.

I’ll put some new lace on my wrist,

To give the old gown a new twist

Like the twist I give to my challah dough.”
Now the challah lady went to visit Dr. Smith,

And he told her she had to lose weight.

He said, “Here’s a nice surprise -

There’s a class in exercise

For the ladies every Wednesday at eight.”

Now the challah lady said, “I just cannot come,

But you say, I’m heavy so.

I’ll just have to put more might -

Into kneading Wednesday night,

So that I’ll be as light as my dough.”


It was summer, and the air conditioner broke down,

It was a hundred degrees in daylight.

Said repair man Yirachmiel,

“I’ve began a great new deal,

I’ll be selling my tools Wednesday night.”
“It’s the only time I’ll fix the air conditioning,

Or you’ll wait till I buy new supplies.”

And she said, “I’ll wait a week,

While the heat will help my challah dough rise.”


Now the challah lady had a wig of lovely hair,

And she wanted it handsomely, brushed.

But the stylist said she might -

Only do it Wednesday night,

But any other time she’d be rushed.
Now the challah lady said, “I just cannot go.

But my sheitel needs setting I know.

So I’ll just dye my wig a shade,

And I’ll give it a new braid,

Like the braid I give to my challah dough.”
Now the challah lady had a daughter Sara’le,

And she was old enough - almost eighteen.

But the shadchan said, “I might

Only do it Wednesday night,

For no other time can I be seen.”
Now the challah lady said, “I just cannot go,

But my daughter needs a shidduch I know.

The only mixing she will do -

Is the mixing I do too,

Like the type I do to my challah dough.”
Now the challah lady told me why her baking is -

More important than all of these things.

It’s because ladies have alone

This mitzvah as their own,

And so when she bakes the challah she sings.


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