University Men's Chorus at ACDA

Richard Schnipke, conductor
C.J. Capen, pianist
Brock Burkett, graduate assistant

February 27, 2026
2:30 p.m.
The Pabst Theater
Milwaukee, WI

Program

Songs We Share: A Legacy of Community

Gaudeamus | arr. Marshall Bartholomew (1885-1978)
Traditional German Melody 
G. Schirmer 11279

Latin:
Gaudeamus igitur
Juvenes dum sumus.
Post jucundam juventutem
Post molestam senectutem
Nos habebit humus.
Vivat academia, vivant professores!
Vivat membrum quodlibet,
vivant membra quaelibet
Semper sint in flore.

English Translation:
Therefore let us party
While we are young!
After pleasant youth
After troublesome old age
The earth will have us!
Long live the university!
Long live the professors!
Long live any student!
Long live any students whatsoever!
May they always be the best!

I Come Singing | Eric William Barnum (b. 1979)
Text by Jacob Auslander
Graphite Publishing GP-B009
        William Hermanowski, percussion

I come singing the keen sweet smell of grass
Cut after rain,
And the cool ripple of drops that pass
Over the grain,
And the drenched light drifting across the plain.

I come chanting the mad bloom of the fall.
And the swallows
Rallying in clans to the rapid call
From the hollows,
And the wet west wind swooping down on the swallows.

I come shrilling the sharp white of December,
The night like quick steel
Swung by a gust in its plunge through the pallid ember
Of dusk, and the heel
Of the fierce green dark grinding the stars like steel.

Bell Tower | Katerina Gimon
Text by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows
Graphite KG-BellTower

Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing
makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell.

As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

Haste Thee, Nymph from L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato George Frederic Handel (1685-1759), ed. & arr. Eugene Rogers
Hal Leonard 00265620
        Dr. Sarah Luebke, soloist

Air:
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles
Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek,
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And laughter, holding both his sides.

Chorus:
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful jollity;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And laughter, holding both his sides.

Meestelaulud | Veljo Tormis
Traditional texts, edited by Paul-Eerik Rummo
Walton WW1602
     
    VII. Teomehe-laul (Serf’s Song)

Estonian:
Muudel on sängid ja muudel mängid,
mul ei sängi, mul ei mängi,
mure minul on ja teomehe hool,
ei neist pääse kuskile poole.

Kui mina vaeneke väsind olen,
kus ma selle koorma panen?
Mure panen musta parre pääl,
hoole heida õrre pääle.

Hommikul, tilluke, jälle teole,
väeti, härra välja pääle, --
mure tuleb parrelt põue taas,
hool see jookseb õue kaasa.

Oi jumal, oi jumal, jumaluke,
viska alla vinnaköied,
et ma üles taeva teomeheks saaks
Maarja loole, Looja maale.

English:
Others have beds and others have games
I have neither a bed nor a game,
Trouble I have and a bondman’s care,
No escape from them.

When I, poor me, get tired,
Where shall I lay this burden?
Trouble I set on the black beam,
Care I cast on the perch.

In the morning, bond again for me, the tiny,
The wee me, (again) onto my master’s field.
Trouble comes back into my bosom,
Care runs along into the yard.

Oh Lord, dear Lord,
Throw down some hoisting ropes
So I could enter the heavenly bond,
Make hay for Maria in the Creator’s realm.

    VIII. Tantsulaul (Dancing Song)
        Micah Roth, Brock Burkett, & Aidan Johnston, soloists

Estonian:
Las aga meie Mari tulla,
küll mina teen tal jalad alla.
Ait-tali-rali-raa, ali-ramp-tamp-taa.
Utireetu, utireetu, trallallaa.
Mul sukakannas suured augud
just nagu vana mära laugud.
Kõrv minul ajab jorupilli,
Alt-Tare Jüri torupilli.

English:
Let our Mari come,
I shall get her on her feet.
Ait-tali-rali-raa, ali-ramp-tamp-taa.
Utireetu, utireetu, trallallaa.
My sock heels have holes
Like an old mare’s blaze.
My ears are singing
As if Jüri from next door was playing the pipes.

We Toast the Days Linda Kachelmeier (b. 1965)
Text by composer
Graphite TCT-CTS-013
        Grayson Abend and Aaron Roos, soloists

When the clock strikes twelve
And another year has gone,
I give a kiss to you
As remembrance of the past we have shared
And the future yet to come.
We toast the days, both good and bad,
The old friends and the new.
When the clock strikes twelve
And another year has gone,
I give a kiss to you.
While the night is long
And the bitter cold has come,
We lengthen our embrace
To sustain us as we mourn our regrets
And the fear of days unknown.
We toast the days…
As we stand on the edge
Of another bright new year,
I take your hand in mine
With assurance of
The courage we will find
And the hope that leads us on.
We toast the days…

Leron, Leron sinta | arr. Saunder Choi (b. 1988)
Traditional Filipino folk song
saunderchoir.com

Tagalog:
Leron, Leron sinta, buko ng papaya
Dala-dala’y buslo, sisidlan ng bunga,
Pagdating sa dulo’y, nabali ang sanga.
Kapos kapalaran, humanap ng iba.
Gumising ka, neneng; Tayo’y manampalok.
Dalhin mo ang buslong, sisidlan ng hinog.
Pagdating sa dulo’y, lalamba-lambayog.
Kumapit ka, neneng; Baka ka mahulog.
Ang iibigin ko’y babaeng maganda.
Ang rosas niya’y pito; Ang saya niya’y siyam.
Ang lalakarin niya’y parte ng dinulang.
Isang pinggang pansit ang kanyang kalaban.

English:
Leron, Leron my dear, blossoms of the papaya tree,
With a bamboo basket, he’d gather some fruits.
But when he reached the top (of the tree) the branch broke.
Oh, what a trick of fate, he had to search for another.
Wake up, *neneng; let’s pick some tamarind fruits.
Take the bamboo baskets, to put the ripe ones in.
Upon reaching the top (of the tree), the branches swayed heavily.
Hold on tight, neneng, as you might fall.
The one I will love is a beautiful girl.
She has seven roses and nine dresses.
The journey she will take is the distance of a table.
A plate of noodles is her foe!

*neneng is a colloquial term referring to a girl and does not have an adequate English translation.

Updated: 02/17/2026 01:55PM