Songbook
ANASSA KATA
(Bryn Mawr College Cheer)
Anassa kata, kalo kale,
Ia ia ia Nike,
Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr!
Translation:
Queen, descend,
I invoke you, fair one.
Hail, hail, hail, victory,
Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr!
SOPHIAS
Sophias philai Paromen,
Philokaloumen met euteleias,
Philosophoumen Aneu malakias, plouto ergou
Kairo crometha Athlon ariston,
Kai kindunon tonde.
Kalliston nomizomen.
Enthoumometha orthos hosa praxomen orthos.
Kalon to althlon kai elpis megale,
Elpis megale. Kalon to athlon kai
Elpis megale, elpis megale,
Nai, megale.
Translation:
Friends of wisdom, let us gather;
We love beauty with simplicity,
We love wisdom without softness,
We use our talent to accomplish deeds.
This is the finest achievement,
And this is the venture we consider noble.
We have proper pride
In what we have properly achieved.
The achievement is worthy,
And our hope is great, hope is great.
Hope is great, yea, great.
Parody
So free us from our profs for men,
Knee-high-to-you men, met at the mixer,
Really, so few men.
Ah me, alack, alas, none of you'll do!
There are no men our wrists on to kiss on.
Why don't you call Monday,
Call me please, call me, oh men!
And through the months there
Are those horsy Penn Dent men, oh no!
Alone with Harry, God help us, my God,
Help us my God, aye, my God.
PALLAS ATHENA
Pallas Athena, thea
Mathe matos kais thenous,
Se par' hemeies imen
Hiru-sousai soi deine.
Pallas Athena, thea,
Mathe matos kais thenous,
Se par' hemeies imen
Hiru-sousai soi deine.
Hiru-sousai soi deine.
Hiru-sousai soi deine.
Hiru-sousai soi deine.
Hiru-sousai soi deine.
Akoue, Akoue.
Makarize, ai-toumen.
Hemin sophian didou.
Hemin syngignou aei
Makar thea akoue.
Makarize, ai-toumen.
Hemin sophian didou.
Hemin syngignou aei
Makar thea, akoue.
Makar thea, akoue.
Makar thea, akoue.
Makar thea, akoue.
Makar thea, akoue.
Akoue, Akoue.
Hierize nyn tous lykhnous,
Aei phanos phaoien,
Lampry nontes ten hodon
Melan phanon poi-ountes.
Hierize nyn tous lykhnous,
Aei phanos phaoien,
Lampry nontes ten hodon
Melan phanon poi-ountes.
Melan phanon poi-ountes.
Melan phanon poi-ountes.
Melan phanon poi-ountes.
Melan phanon poi-ountes.
Akoue, Akoue.
Translation:
Pallas Athena, goddess of learning and strength,
We come to worship you, dread goddess.
Bless us we pray; give us wisdom.
Be with us always. Blessed goddess, hear!
Sanctify our lanterns now, to shine forever clearly,
Lighting the way, making bright the dark.
Parody -- Colossal Pain
(tune: Pallas Athena)
Colossal Pain, a thesis,
With overwork they strain us,
So far I've kept from screaming;
Here you sob and sigh daily.
Colossal Pain, a thesis,
With overwork they strain us,
So far I've kept from screaming;
Here you sob and sigh daily.
Here you sob and sigh daily.
Here you sob and sigh daily.
Here you sob and sigh daily.
Here you sob and sigh daily.
Oh Phooey, Oh Phooey!
My Carcass is inhuman;
I'm in so feeble dither;
I am so giggly dying,
My constant comment's, "Phooey!"
My Carcass is inhuman;
I'm in so feeble dither;
I am so giggly dying,
My constant comment's, "Phooey!"
My constant comment's, "Phooey!"
My constant comment's, "Phooey!"
My constant comment's, "Phooey!"
My constant comment's, "Phooey!"
Oh Phooey, Oh Phooey!
Here is a mental breakdown.
I find it most annoying.
I fear my test tomorrow,
My long procrastination.
Here is a mental breakdown.
I find it most annoying.
I fear my test tomorrow,
My long procrastination.
My long procrastination.
My long procrastination.
My long procrastination.
My long procrastination.
Oh, Phooey! Oh, Phooey!
THOU GRACIOUS INSPIRATION
(Bryn Mawr College Hymn)
Thou gracious inspiration, our guiding star,
Mistress and mother, all hail, Bryn Mawr!
Goddess of wisdom, thy torch divine
Doth beacon thy votaries to thy shrine.
And We, thy daughters, would thy vestals be,
Thy torch to consecrate eternally.
Parody
Thou righteous indignation, a co-ed dorm,
Girls and boys together, against the norm.
Tell us, dear students of Bryn Mawr,
Mistress or mother, which one you are.
While those who live in dorms of single gender
Find too often they are called to defend her.
HAVERFORD HARRY
(Tune: The Girl That I Marry)
The boy that I marry will have to be
A hermit, neurotic, and wear a goatee,
A Haverfordian.
He'll be arty and smarty and smell of raw gin.
His hair will be stringy and shoulder-length.
He'll show all the girls with his sheer brute strength.
He's a nudist, a Zen Buddhist,
And his social deportment's the crudest.
His room will be cluttered with sculpture weird.
His chin will be covered with unshaved beard.
He's terrific, he's prolific,
His demands and desires quite specific.
He seems to be haunted by some strange hex,
A complex concerning that thing called sex.
He's sublime-o, what a wine-o,
For some young thing from Shipley, divine-o.
So Haverford Harry,
The boy that I marry must be---
Inevitably.
HARRY'S REPLY
(Tune: The Girl That I Marry)
The girl that I marry will have a degree,
Not B.A., nor M.A., but Ph.D.
A Mawrter to the core!
She's enlightened, but frightened:
Three locks guard her door.
Her suite will be occupied by ten cats,
A parakeet, goldfish, and two white rats.
Mind's precocious, hair's atrocious;
If you get her in bed, she's ferocious.
Her books are all fingered and thinly worn.
That text in her knapsack is really Greek porn.
Education, then stagnation,
Bryn Mawr women are doomed to frustration.
She seems to think all men have one-track minds,
While brushing her teeth, she first closes the blinds.
She's a sickly, strangely picky,
With her ten o'clock tea friends, she's cliquey.
Yet the Mawrter I cherish
Has deans that would perish
If they knew she was married to me --
(spoken) For only failures wed!
UNDER THIS STONE
(Music by Henry Purcell)
Under this stone lies Gabriel John,
Who died in the year one thousand and one.
Cover his head with turf or stone
'T is all one, 't is all one, with turf or stone, 't is all one.
Pray for the soul of gentle John,
If you please, you may, or let it alone, 't is all one.
TENDER SHEPHERD
(Music by Moose Charlap and Jule Styne;
Lyrics by Carolyn Leigh, Betty Comden and Adolph Green)
Tender shepherd
Tender shepherd
Let me help you hold your sheep
One in the meadow
Two in the garden
Three in the nursery
Fast asleep...
GOOD NIGHT
Goodnight, Goodnight,
Time sends a warning call,
Sweet dreams descent on all,
Time, time sends a warning call.
BLOWIN' IN THE WIND
(Lyrics by Bob Dylan)
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
TURN, TURN, TURN
(To Everything There Is A Season)
(Words from the Book of Ecclesiastes,
Adaption and Music by Pete Seeger)
(The Byrds' Version)
To ev-'rything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for ev-'ry purpose under heaven.
A time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap;
A time to kill, a time to heal; a time to laugh, a time to weep.
To ev-'rything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for ev-'ry purpose under heaven.
A time to build up, a time to break down; a time to dance, a time to mourn;
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together.
To ev-'rything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for ev-'ry purpose under heaven.
A time of love, a time of hate; a time of war, a time of peace;
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing.
To ev-'rything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for ev-'ry purpose under heaven.
A time to gain, a time to lose; a time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate; a time for peace -- I swear it's not too late!
To ev-'rything (turn, turn, turn), there is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for ev-'ry purpose under heaven.
THE SOUND OF SILENCE
(Words and Music by Paul Simon)
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more,
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never shared
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.
"Fools!" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence.
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence."
Songmistress Home