Prologue / "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?