Earworms
| BLANCHE
COMME LA NEIGE (Trad., arr. e chantée par Bertrand Gosselin) La belle s'est endormie sur un beau lit de roses La belle s'est endormie sur un beau lit de roses Blanche comme la neige belle comme le jour Ils sont trois capitaines qui vont lui faire l'amour Le plus jeune des trois la prend par sa main blanche Le plus jeune des trois la prend par sa main blanche Montez montez princesse dessus mon cheval gris A Paris j'vous mène dans un fort beau logis Finissant ce discours le capitaine rentre Finissant ce discours le capitaine rentre Mangez buvez la belle selon votre appétit Avec un capitain vous passerez la nuit Au milieu du repas la belle a tombée morte Au milieu du repas la belle a tombée morte Sonnez Sonnez les cloches tambours au régiment Ma maîtresse elle est morte a l'âge de quinze ans Mais au bout de trois jours son père s'y promène Mais au bout de trois jours son père s'y promène Ouvrez ma tombe mon père si vous m'aimez Trois jours j'ai fait la morte pour mon honneur garder |
SNOW WHITE (Trad., arr. and sung by Bertrand Gosselin) The beauty fell asleep on a fine rose bed The beauty fell asleep on a fine rose bed White as snow, nice as day There are three captains who want to make love to her The youngest of the three takes her by the hand The youngest of the three takes her by the hand Come up ye princess on my grey steed To Paris I'll take you, to a very nice place As he ends his speech the captain steps back in As he ends his speech the captain steps back in Eat and drink to your will With a captain you are to spend the night In the middle of her meal the beauty falls struck dead In the middle of her meal the beauty falls struck dead O ring the bells and roll the army drums My mistress died at the age of fifteen But on the third day her father walks But on the third day her father walks Open my tomb, my father, if you love me Three days I faked dead to save my honour |
BIANCA
COME LA NEVE La bella s'è addormentata su un bel letto di rose La bella s'è addormentata su un bel letto di rose Bianca come la neve, bella come il giorno Sono tre capitani che vogliono far l'amore con lei Il più giovane dei tre la prende per la sua mano bianca Il più giovane dei tre la prende per la sua mano bianca Salite, salite, bella, sul mio cavallo grigio A Parigi vi conduco, in un alloggio bello e sicuro Finito il suo discorso, il capitano rientra Finito il suo discorso, il capitano rientra Mangiate, bevete, bella, secondo il vostro appetito Con un capitano passerete la notte Nel mezzo del pasto la bella è caduta morta Nel mezzo del pasto la bella è caduta morta Suonate, suonate le campane, i tamburi al regimento La mia signora è morta, all'età di quindici anni Ma alla fine di tre giorni suo padre passeggia Ma alla fine di tre giorni suo padre passeggia Aprite la mia tomba, padre mio, se mi amate Tre giorni ho fatto la morta per conservarmi l'onore. |
| RITURNELLA (Trad. arr. da Antonello Ricci per Eugenio Bennato / Musicanova) Tu rinnina che vai Tu rinnina che vai Lu maru maru Oi riturnella Tu rinnina che vai lu maru maru Ferma quanno te dico Ferma quanno te dico Dui paroli Oi riturnella Ferma quanno te dico dui paroli Corri a jettari lu Corri a jettari lu Suspiro a mari Oi riturnella Corri a jettari lu suspiro a mari E vididi se mi rispunna E vididi se mi rispunna Lu mio beni Oi riturnella E vididi se mi rispunna lu mio beni Non mi rispunna - No Non mi rispunna - No È troppo lontano - Oi riturnella Non mi rispunna - No è troppo lontano E sotto a na friscura E sotto a na friscura Che sta dormendo Oi riturnella E sotto a na friscura che sta dormendo Poi si ripiglia cu Poi si ripiglia cu Nu chianto all'occhi Oi riturnella Poi si ripiglia cu nu chianto all'occhi Se struja l'occhi e li Se struja l'occhi e li Passa lu chianto Oi riturnella Se struja l'occhi e li passa lu chianto Piglia tu muccaturo Piglia tu muccaturo Lu vai a lavu Oi riturnella Piglia tu muccaturo lu vai a lavu Poi ti lu spanno a lu Poi ti lu spanno a lu Pero de rosa Oi riturnella Poi ti lu spanno a lu pero de rosa Poi ti lu manno a Na- Poi ti lu manno a Na- -poli a stirare Oi riturnella Poi ti lu manno a Napoli a stirare Poi ti lu cogliu a la Poi ti lu cogliu a la Napulitana Oi riturnella Poi ti lu cogliu a la napulitana Poi ti lu mannu cu Poi ti lu mannu cu Ventu a purtari Oi riturnella Poi ti lu mannu cu ventu a purtari Ventu và portacello Ventu và portacello A lu mio beni Oi riturnella Ventu và portacello a lu mio beni Mera che nun ti cada Mera che nun ti cada Pé supra mari Oi riturnella Mera che nun ti cada pé supra mari Ca perdo li sigilli Ca perdo li sigilli De stu cori Oi riturnella Ca perdo li sigilli de stu cori |
LA
RITORNELLA (Versione italiana di Raffaele Morgese) Tu rondine che vai serena serena Fermati perché ti dica due parole. Corri a gettare in mare un sospiro E senti se il mio bene mi risponde. Non mi risponde, no, troppo lontano. Sotto un albero sta dormendo. Poi si risveglia col pianto agli occhi. Gli occhi si struscia e passa il pianto. Prendi il fazzoletto che vai a lavare Poi lo stendo al piede di una rosa Poi lo raccolgo alla napolitana Poi lo mando a Napoli a stirare Poi lo affido al vento per portartelo. O vento, va e portalo al mio bene, Attento che non ti cada in mare Sennò perdo i sigilli di questo cuore. |
LITTLE
SWALLOW (English version by Raffaele Morgese) Little swallow as you go gently Stop if only the time I may speak to you Dash away and scatter a sigh over the sea And watch out for my beloved’s reply. She replies not, no, too far away. Under a tree she's sleeping She awakens with tears in her eyes She rubs her eyes and the cry stops. Fetch her handkerchief, wash it Then put it down at the foot of a rose Then fold it in the Neapolitan way Then despatch it to Naples to be pressed Then trust it to the wind to carry. O wind, go and take it to my beloved, Beware you don't drop it in the sea For I will mislay the seals of this my heart. |
| ZWEI SCHWESTERN (Bären Gässlin; text by H.C. Hartman & M. Korth after Jaidhofer's version of the Scottish ballad "Two Sisters") Er: Zwei Schwestern sangen auf einer Burg Und um sie freit ein junger Lord Der älteren schenkt er einen Ring Die jüngere liebt er über alle Ding Die ältere ist krank vor Neid Sie wünscht der jüngeren das Totenkleid Sie: Komm mit, komm mit, du Schwester mein Heut’ laufen des Vaters Schiffe ein Er: sie nimmt sie bei der ihren Hand Und führt sie nachts durch Gras und Sand Die jüngere steht auf einem Stein Die ältere stösst sie ins Wasser hinein Sie: Oh Schwester, Schwester, reich mir die Hand Ich schenke Dir mein halbes Land Er: Nein Schwester, die Hand die reich' ich Dir nicht Dein halbes Land und ich brauch' es nicht Sie: Erbarme Dich du Schwester mein Lord William soll der deine sein Er: Vergebens muss dein Flehen sein Schon morgen ist Lord William mein Beide: Bei der Meerfrau ist ein weisser Schwan Die Schwester treibt zum Mühlendamm Das Wasser glitzert im Sonnenlicht Das Mühlrad ihr die Knochen bricht Er: Ans Ufer sie das Wasser treibt Da findet ein Harfner ihren Leib Er blickt sie an, er seufzet schwer Er schneidet ab ihr güldnes Haar Beide: Die Rippen sollen die Harfe sein Die Saiten die locken so golden und fein Er: Er trägt die Harfe in des Königs Saal Da jemand zur Hochzeit versammelt war Er stellt die Harfe auf einen Stein Sie tönt so hell, sie singt so rein Sie: Dort sitzt mein Vater auf seinem Thron Und dort meine Mutter die Königin Da steht mein Bruder dachwo (?) Geleit Und Prinz William mein geliebter ihm zur seit Beide: Beim letzten Lied das die Harfe sang Der falschen Schwester das Herz zersprang |
TWO
SISTERS Male: Two sisters sang in a castle And a young lord courts them He gives the elder a ring He loves the younger more than everything The elder is sick with envy She wishes death for the younger Female: Come, come with me, my sister Today our father's ship is arriving. Male: She took her by the hand And lead in the night her through grass and sand The younger sat on a stone The elder threw her into the waters Female: O sister, sister, lend my your hand I'll give you my half of the land Male: No, sister, I won't lend you my hand You half of the land is no use for me Female: You shabby sister of mine Lord William shall be yours then Male: All your pleas are in vain By tomorrow will Lord William be mine Both: By the mermaid is a white swan The sister floats to the Mill The water glistens in the sunshine The mill wheel breaks her bones Female: The stream takes her to the shore There a harp-maker finds her body He observes her, sighs loud He cuts her golden hair off Both: The ribs shall become the harp The golden fine locks shall become the strings Male: He takes the harp in the King's hall There were all gathered for a wedding He sets the harp on a stone It sounds so bright, it sings so pure Female: There sits my father on his throne And there my mother the queen There stands my brother as the bestman [?] My beloved Lord William by his side Both: By the last song that the harp played The false sister's heart was broken in pieces. |
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| UN
BLASFEMO (dietro ogni blasfemo c'è un giardino incantato) (Fabrizio De André, "Non al denaro non all'amore né al cielo", liberamente tratto dall'Antologia di Spoon River) Mai più mi chinai e nemmeno su un fiore, più non arrossii nel rubare l'amore dal momento che Inverno mi convinse che Dio non sarebbe arrossito rubandomi il mio. Mi arrestarono un giorno per le donne ed il vino, non avevano leggi per punire un blasfemo, non mi uccise la morte, ma due guardie bigotte, mi cercarono l'anima a forza di botte. Perché dissi che Dio imbrogliò il primo uomo, lo costrinse a viaggiare una vita da scemo, nel giardino incantato lo costrinse a sognare, a ignorare che al mondo c'è il bene e c'è il male. Quando vide che l'uomo allungava le dita a rubargli il mistero d'una mela proibita per paura che ormai non avesse padroni lo fermò con la morte, inventò le stagioni. Mi cercarono l'anima a forza di botte. E se furon due guardie a fermarmi la vita, è proprio qui sulla terra la mela proibita, e non Dio, ma qualcuno che per noi l'ha inventato, ci costringe a sognare in un giardino incantato, ci costringe a sognare in un giardino incantato. |
A
BLASPHEMOUS (behind every blasphemous there's a charmed garden) (Fabrizio De André, "Non al denaro non all'amore né al cielo", free adaptation from the Spoon River Anthology) Never more I bowed and not even on a flower, no more did I blush for stealing love since Winter told me God wouldn't blush for stealing mine. They arrested me one day for women and wine, they had no laws to punish a blasphemous, no death killed me, but two bigot cops, they chased my soul by beatings. For I said that God deceived the first man, forced him to travel a fool's life, in the charmed garden forced him to dream, to ignore the world's good and evil. When he saw the man stretch out his fingers to steal him the mystery of a forbidden apple fearing he would have no more masters stopped him with death, invented seasons. They chased my soul by beatings. And if they were two cops to stop my life, it's just here on earth the forbidden apple, and not God, but someone who invented him for us, forces us to dream in a charmed garden, forces us to dream in a charmed garden. |
WENDELL P.
BLOYD (Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon River Anthology) They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard. My offence was this: I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam ourwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life. For Christ's sake, you sensible people, Here's what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: "And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us" (a little envy, you see), "To know good and evil" (the all good lie exposed): "And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden." (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.) |
| CROW ON THE CRADLE (Sidney Carter, sung by Jackson Browne) The sheep's in the meadow The cow's in the corn Now is the time for a child to be born He'll laugh at the moon And cry for the sun And if it's a boy he'll carry a gun Sang the crow on the cradle And if it should be that this baby's a girl Never you mind if her hair doesn't curl With rings on her fingers And bells on her toes And a bomber above her wherever she goes Sang the crow on the cradle The crow on the cradle The black and the white Somebody's baby is born for a fight The crow on the cradle The white and the black Somebody's baby is not coming back Sang the crow on the cradle Your mother and father will sweat and they'll slave To build you a coffin and dig you a grave Hush-a-bye little one, never you weep For we've got a toy that can put you to sleep Sang the crow on the cradle Bring me my gun, and I'll shoot that bird dead That's what your mother and father once said The crow on the cradle, what can we do Ah, this is a thing that I'll leave up to you Sang the crow on the cradle Sang the crow on the cradle |
IL CORVO SULLA CULLA Le pecore sono nel prato E le mucche al pascolo È il momento che nasca un bambino Sorriderà al sole E piangerà per la luna E se è un maschio porterà una pistola Cantò il corvo sulla culla E se dovesse essere una bambina Non datevi mai pensiero per i capelli che non sono ricci Con gli anelli alle dita E campanellini alle caviglie E l'ombra di un bombardiere che la segue dovunque andrà Cantò il corvo sulla culla Il corvo sulla culla Il bianco e il nero Il bambino di qualcuno è nato per una guerra Il corvo sulla culla Il nero e il bianco Il bambino di qualcuno non tornerà mai più Cantò il corvo sulla culla Tua madre e tuo padre suderanno sangue Per costruirti una bara e scavarti una tomba Shh, dormi, piccolino, non piangere mai Ché abbiamo un giocattolo che ti farà addormentare Cantò il corvo sulla culla Portami la pistola, ché ammazzo quel corvo Dissero una volta tua madre e tuo padre Corvo sulla culla, che cosa possiamo fare Ah, questa è una risposta che lascio a voi Cantò il corvo sulla culla Cantò il corvo sulla culla |
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| LE
RENARD ET LA BELETTE - LA JUMENT DE MICHAUD (Trad. française, here sung by Laïs) C'est dans dix ans je m'en irai J'entends le loup et le renard chanter C'est dans dix ans je m'en irai J'entends le loup et le renard chanter J'entends le loup, le renard et la belette J'entends le loup et le renard chanter J'entends le loup, le renard et la belette J'entends le loup et le renard chanter C'est dans neuf ans je m'en irai La jument de Michaud est passée dans le pré La jument de Michaud et son petit poulain Sont passés dans le pré, ont mangé tout le foin La jument de Michaud et son petit poulain Sont passés dans le pré, ont mangé tout le foin L'hiver viendra, le gars, l'hiver viendra La jument de Michaud elle s'en repentira L'hiver viendra, le gars, l'hiver viendra La jument de Michaud elle s'en repentira |
THE
FOX AND THE WEASEL - MICHAUD'S MARE
(French children song, arr. and sung by Laïs And in ten years I'll be gone I can hear the wolf and the fox sing And in ten years I'll be gone I can hear the wolf and the fox sing I can hear the wolf, the fox and the weasel I can hear the wolf and the fox sing I can hear the wolf, the fox and the weasel I can hear the wolf and the fox sing And in nine years I'll be gone Michaud's mare has passed on the meadow Michaud's mare and her foal Have passed on the meadow and eaten all hay Michaud's mare and her foal Have passed on the meadow and eaten all hay Winter will come, my boys, winter will come Michaud's mare shall repent Winter will come, my boys, winter will come Michaud's mare shall repent |
LA
VOLPE E LA DONNOLA - LA GIUMENTA DI MICHAUD E tra dieci anni me ne andrò Sento il lupo e la volpe cantare E tra dieci anni me ne andrò Sento il lupo e la volpe cantare Sento il lupo, la volpe e la donnola Sento il lupo e la volpe cantare Sento il lupo, la volpe e la donnola Sento il lupo e la volpe cantare E tra nove anni me ne andrò La giumenta di Michaud è passata sul prato La giumenta di Michaud e il suo piccolo puledro Sono passati nel prato, han mangiato tutto il fieno La giumenta di Michaud e il suo piccolo puledro Sono passati nel prato, han mangiato tutto il fieno L'inverno verrà, ragazzi, l'inverno verrà La giumenta di Michaud se ne pentirà. L'inverno verrà, ragazzi, l'inverno verrà La giumenta di Michaud se ne pentirà. |
| GEORDIE (Ballata trad. inglese, tradotta e arrangiata da Fabrizio De André) Uomo Mentre attraversavo London Bridge un giorno senza sole vidi una donna pianger d'amore, piangeva per il suo Geordie. Donna Impiccheranno Geordie con una corda d'oro, è un privilegio raro. Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. Uomo Sellate il suo cavallo dalla bianca criniera sellatele il suo pony cavalcherà fino a Londra stasera ad implorare per Geordie Donna Geordie non rubò mai neppure per me un frutto o un fiore raro. Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. Insieme Salvate le sue labbra, salvate il suo sorriso, non ha vent'anni ancora cadrà l'inverno anche sopra il suo viso, potrete impiccarlo allora Uomo Né il cuore degli inglesi né lo scettro del re Geordie potran salvare, anche se piangeran con te la legge non può cambiare. Insieme Così lo impiccheranno con una corda d'oro, è un privilegio raro. Uomo Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. |
--- | GEORDIE WILL BE HANG'D IN A
GOLDEN CHAIN (Trad. English ballad) (Thomas D'Urfey, Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1719-1720) As I walk'd o'er London Bridge 1 One misty morning early I overheard a fair pretty maid, Was lamenting for her Geordie. "O, my Geordie will be hang'd in a golden chain, 2 'tis not the chain of many, He was born from King's royal breed And lost to a virtuous lady. "Go bridle me my milk-white steed, 3 Go bridle me my pony, I will ride to London's Court To plead for the life of Geordie. "O Geordie never stole nor cow, nor calf, 4 He never hurted any, Stole sixteen of the King's royal deer And he sold them in Bohenny. "Two pretty babes have I born, 5 The third lies in my body, I'd freely part to them ev'ry one If you'd spare the life of Geordie." The judge look'd over his left shoulder, 6 He said, "Fair maid, I'm sorry, So, fair maid, you must be gone, For I cannot pardon Geordie." O my Geordie will be hang'd in a golden chain, 7 'tis not the chain of many, Stole sixteen of the King's royal deer And he sold them in Bohenny. |
| DANS
LES PRISONS DE NANTES (Trad. bretonne, arr. par Tri Yann) Dans les prisons de Nantes lan digue digue dain, lan di, lan digue digue dain Dans les prisons de Nantes Y avait un prisonnier, Y avait un prisonnier. Personne ne le va vouère, Personne ne le va vouère Que la fille du geôlier, Que la fille du geôlier. Un jour il lui demande, Un jour il lui demande: Oué, que dit-on de moué, Oué, que dit-on de moué? On dit de vous en ville, On dit de vous en ville Que vous serez pendu, Et vous serez pendu. Mais s'il faut qu'on me pende, Mais s'il faut qu'on me pende Déliez-moi les pieds, Déliez-moi les pieds. La fille était jeunette, La fille était jeunette, Les pieds lui a délié, Les pieds lui a délié. Le prisonnier alerte, Le prisonnier alerte A la Loir' s'est jeté, A la Loir' s'est jeté. Dès qu'il fut sur les rives, Dès qu'il fut sur les rives Il se prit à chanter, Il se prit à chanter: Je chante pour les belles, Je chante pour les belles Surtout celle du geôlier, Surtout celle du geôlier. Si je reviens à Nantes, Si je reviens à Nantes Oui, je l'épouserai, Oui, je l'épouserai. Dans les prisons de Nantes, Dans les prisons de Nantes Y avait un prisonnier, Y avait un prisonnier. |
IN
NANTES JAIL In Nantes jail lan digue digue dain, lan di, lan digue digue dain In Nantes jail There was a prisoner There was a prisoner Noone comes to visit him Noone comes to visit him But the gaoler's daughter But the gaoler's daughter One day he asks her One day he asks her So, what do they say about me So, what do they say about me? About you they say in town About you they say in town That you'll be hung That you'll be hung Then if I'm to be hung Then if I'm to be hung Untie my feet Untie my feet The girl was young The girl was young His feet she untied His feet she untied The prisoner quick The prisoner quick Into the Loire leapt Into the Loire leapt As he reached the shore As he reached the shore Then he started to sing Then he started to sing I sing for the beauties I sing for the beauties Mostly those of gaoler's Mostly those of gaoler's If I come back to Nantes If I come back to Nantes Well I will marry her Well I will marry her In Nantes jail In Nantes jail There was a prisoner There was a prisoner |
NELLE
PRIGIONI DI NANTES (Tr. it. di Riccardo Venturi) Nelle prigioni di Nantes, lan digue digue dain, lan di, lan digue digue dain Nelle prigioni di Nantes C'era un prigioniero, C'era un prigioniero. Nessuno va a vederlo, Nessuno va a vederlo Che la figlia del carceriere, Che la figlia del carceriere. Un giorno lui le chiede, Un giorno lui le chiede: Eh, che si dice di me, Che si dice di me? Si dice di voi in città, Si dice di voi in città Che sarete impiccato, E sarete impiccato. Ma se devono impiccarmi, Se devono impiccarmi, Slegatemi i piedi, Slegatemi i piedi. La ragazza era proprio giovane, La ragazza era proprio giovane, I piedi gli ha slegato, I piedi gli ha slegato. Il prigioniero, svelto, Il prigioniero, svelto, Nella Loira s'è gettato, Nella Loira s'è gettato. E quando fu a riva, E quando fu a riva Si mise a cantare, Si mise a cantare: Io canto per le belle, Io canto per le belle, Specie quella del carceriere, Specie quella del carceriere. Se ritorno a Nantes, Se ritorno a Nantes, Sì che la sposerò, Sì che la sposerò. Nelle prigioni di Nantes, Nelle prigioni di Nantes C'era un prigioniero, C'era un prigioniero. |
| LE PLAT PAYS (Jacques Brel) Avec la mer du Nord pour dernier terrain vague Et des vagues de dunes pour arrêter les vagues Et de vagues rochers que les marées dépassent Et qui ont à jamais le coeur à marée basse Avec infiniment de brumes à venir Avec le vent de l'est écoutez-le tenir Le plat pays qui est le mien Avec des cathédrales pour uniques montagnes Et de noirs clochers comme mâts de cocagne Où des diables en pierre décrochent les nuages Avec le fil des jours pour unique voyage Et des chemins de pluie pour unique bonsoir Avec le vent d'ouest écoutez le vouloir Le plat pays qui est le mien Avec un ciel si bas qu'un canal s'est perdu Avec un ciel si bas qu'il fait l'humilité Avec un ciel si gris qu'un canal s'est pendu Avec un ciel si gris qu'il faut lui pardonner Avec le vent du nord qui vient s'écarteler Avec le vent du nord écoutez-le craquer Le plat pays qui est le mien Avec de l'Italie qui descendrait l'Escaut Avec Frida la blonde quand elle devient Margot Quand les fils de novembre nous reviennent en mai Quand la plaine est fumante et tremble sous juillet Quand le vent est au rire quand le vent est au blé Quand le vent est au sud écoutez-le chanter Le plat pays qui est le mien. |
MIJN VLAKKE LAND (Jacques Brel) Wanneer de Noordzee koppig breekt, op hoge duinen en witte vlokken schuim, uiteenslaan op de kruinen, wanneer de Noordvloed beukt aan het zwart basalt en over dijk en duin, de grijze nevel valt wanneer bij eb, het strand woest is, als een woestijn en natte Westenwinden gieren van venijn, dan vecht mijn land...Mijn vlakke land... Wanneer de regen daalt, op straten, pleinen, perken, op dak en torenspits van eeuwenoude kerken, die in dit vlakke land de enige bergen zijn, wanneer onder de wolken, mensen dwergen zijn, wanneer de dagen gaan, in domme regelmaat en barre Oostenwind het land nog vlakker slaat, dan wacht mijn land...Mijn vlakke land... Wanneer de lage lucht vlak over het water scheert, wanneer de lage lucht ons nederigheid leert, wanneer de lage lucht er grijs als leisteen is, wanneer de lage lucht er vaal als keileem is, wanneer de noordewind de vlakte vierendeelt, wanneer de noordewind er onze adem steelt, dan kraakt mijn land...Mijn vlakke land... Wanneer de Schelde blinkt, in zuidelijke zon en elke Vlaamse vrouw flaneert in zonjapon wanneer de eerste spin zijn lente-webben weeft en dansend door het veld het juli zonlicht beeft, wanneer de zuidenwind, schatert door het graan wanneer de zuidenwind, jubelt langs de baan, dan juicht mijn land...Mijn vlakke land... |
THE FLAT LAND (Jacques Brel) When the North sea stubbornly breaks, on high dunes and white flakes of foam, break up on the tops, when the Northtide pounds at the black basalt and over dike and dune, the grey haze falls when at lowtide, the beach is wild like a desert and wet Westwinds howl in fury, then my land fights... My flat land... When the rain descends, on streets, squares, gardens, on roof and towertips of ageold churches, which in this flat land are the only mounts, when under the clouds, men are dwarves, when the days go, in dumb regularity and raw Eastwind hits the land even flatter, then my land waits... My flat land... When the low air races right over the water, When the low air teaches us humbleness, When the low air there is gray like slate, when the low air there is sallow like clay, when the Northwind parts the plain in four, when Northwind there steals our breath, then my land cracks... my flat land... When the Schelde glares, in southern sun and every Flemish girl strolls in sundress when the first spider weaves its spring-webs and dancing through the field the juli sunlight shakes, when the southernwind, roars through the grain when the southernwind, rejoices by the course, then my land cheers... My flat land... |
| IL
RE FA RULLARE I TAMBURI (Trad. francese, arr. da Fabrizio De André) Il re fa rullare i tamburi, Il re fa rullare i tamburi Vuol sceglier fra le dame Un nuovo e fresco amore Ed è la prima che ha veduto Che gli ha rapito il cuore. Marchese, la conosci tu? Marchese, la conosci tu? Chi è questa graziosa? Ed il marchese gli ha risposto: Maestà, e' la mia sposa. Tu sei più felice di me, Tu sei più felice di me D'aver donna sì bella, signora sì compita; Se tu vorrai cederla a me Sarà la favorita. Signore, se non foste il re, Signore, se non foste il re V'intimerei prudenza; Ma siete il sire, siete il Re. Vi devo l'obbedienza. Marchese, vedrai, passerà Marchese, vedrai, passerà D'amor la sofferenza; Io ti farò nelle mie armate Maresciallo di Francia. Addio per sempre, mia gioia, Addio per sempre, mia bella, Addio, dolce amore; Devi lasciarmi per il re, Ed io ti lascio il cuore. La regina ha raccolto dei fiori, La regina ha raccolto dei fiori Celando la sua offesa; Ed il profumo di quei fiori Ha ucciso la marchesa. |
THE
KING LETS THE DRUMS ROLL (Traditional French ballad, arr. by Fabrizio De André) The king lets the drums roll, The king lets the drums roll He wants to choose out of the ladies One new and fresh love And the first one he saw Has taken his heart away. Marquis, do you know her? Marquis, do you know her? Who is that gracious one? And the marquis answered: My lord, she is my bride. You are happier than me, You are happier than me For you have such a beautiful woman, Such a graceful lady, Should you like to let me have her She'd be the favourite. My lord, were you not the king, My lord, were you not the king I should summon you prudence; But you are my lord, you are the king. I owe you obedience. Marquis, you'll see, it will pass Marquis, you'll see, it will pass This love's labour; I will make you in my army Marshall of France. Farewell for ever, my joy, Farewell for ever, my beauty, Farewell, sweet love; You must leave me for the king, And with you leaves my heart. The queen has plucked flowers, The queen has plucked flowers Hiding her offence; And those flowers smell Has killed marquise. |
LE
ROI A FAIT BATTRE TAMBOUR (Trad.) Le Roi a fait battre tambour, Le Roi a fait battre tambour, Pour voir toutes ces dames, Et la première qu'il a vu Lui a ravi son âme. Marquis, dis-moi, la connais-tu ? Marquis, dis-moi, la connais-tu? Qui est cett' jolie dame ? Le marquis lui a répondu : Sire roi, c'est ma femme. Marquis, tu es plus heureux que moi, Marquis, tu es plus heureux que moi, D'avoir femme si belle. Si tu voulais me l'accorder, Je me chargerais d'elle. Sire, si vous n'étiez pas le roi, Sire, si vous n'étiez pas le roi J'en tirerais vengeance. Mais puisque vous êtes le roi, A votre obéissance. Marquis, ne te fâche donc pas, Marquis, ne te fâche donc pas, T'auras ta récompense : Je te ferai dans mes armées Beau maréchal de France. Adieu, ma mie, adieu, mon cour, Adieu, ma mie, adieu, mon cour, Adieu mon espérance ! Puisqu'il faut servir le roi, Séparons-nous d'ensemble. Le roi l'a prise par la main, Le roi l'a prise par la main L'a menée dans sa chambre ; La belle en montant les degrés A voulu se défendre. Marquise, ne pleurez pas tant ! Marquise, ne pleurez pas tant! Je vous ferai princesse ; De tout mon or et mon argent, Vous serez la maîtresse. Gardez votre or ! Et votre argent Gardez votre or ! Et votre argent N'appartient qu'à la Reine ; J'aimerais mieux mon doux Marquis Que toutes vos richesses ! La reine a fait faire un bouquet, La reine a fait faire un bouquet, De belles fleurs de lyse Et la senteur de ce bouquet, A fait mourir marquise. |
| VÄNNER
OCH FRÄNDER (Swedish medieval ballad, arr. by Folk och Rackare) Vänner och fränder de lade om råd Hur de skulle gifta bort sin fränka i år Uti rosen Lade om råd Hur de skulle gifta bort sin fränka i år Dig vill vi giva en kungason till man Och han har mera guld än lille Roland haver land Uti rosen Kungason till man Och han har mera guld än lille Roland haver land Om lördan och söndan budet utgick Om måndan och tisdan skull skådas vad hon fick Uti rosen Budet utgick Om måndan och tisdan skull skådas vad hon fick Om onsdan och torsdan blandades vin Om fredan och lördan dracks hedersdagen in Uti rosen Blandades vin Om fredan och lördan dracks hedersdagen in De drucko i dagar de drucko i två Men inte ville bruden åt sängarne gå Uti rosen Drucko i två Men inte ville bruden åt sängarne gå De drucko i dagar de drucko i tre Men inte ville bruden åt sängarne se Uti rosen Drucko i tre Men inte ville bruden åt sängarne se Då kom där in en liten sjödräng Och han var allt klädd uti blå kjortelen Uti rosen En liten sjödräng Och han var allt klädd uti blå kjortelen Han ställde sig vid bordet och talade så Jag ser endast masterna som där gå Uti rosen Talade så Jag ser endast masterna som där gå Så lyster det Jungfrun åt högan loftet gå Så springer hon den vägen mot sjöastranden låg Uti rosen Högan loftet gå Så springer hon den vägen mot sjöastranden låg Hon sprang uppå stenar hon sprang uppå tå Men aktade sig väl för böljorna de blå Uti rosen Sprang uppå tå Men aktade sig väl för böljorna de blå Så togo de henne i skeppet in Och bjöd henne att dricka både mjöd och vin Uti rosen I skeppet in Och bjöd henne att dricka både mjöd och vin Jag ser jag ser på dina vita fingrar små Att vigselring ej suttit på den förrän igår Uti rosen Vita fingrar små Att vigselring ej suttit på den förrän igår Jag ser jag ser på dina guldgula hår Att brudekrans ej suttit på dem förrän igår Uti rosen Guldgula hår Att brudekrans ej suttit på dem förrän igår Jag ser jag ser på dina snövita bröst Att de ej har varit någon småbarnatröst Uti rosen Snövita bröst Att de ej har varit någon småbarnatröst Och Jungfrun hon lägger sig vid lille Rolands sida Hon känner sig varken sorgsen eller kvida Uti rosen Lille Rolands sida |
FRIENDS
AND KIN (Swedish medieval ballad, arr. by Folk och Rackare) Friends and kinsfolk met to deliberate To whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year Rosy youth They deliberated To whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year We want you to wed the son of a king And he has more gold than poor Roland has land Rosy youth Wed the son of a king And he has more gold than poor Roland has land On Saturday and Sunday the word it was spread Monday and Tuesday will show what she gets Rosy youth Word was spread Monday and Tuesday will show what she gets On Wednesday and Thursday the wine was made Friday and Saturday the wedding was cheered Rosy youth Wine was made Friday and Saturday the wedding was cheered They drank for days, they drank for two, But the bride wouldn't to the chamber go Rosy youth They drank for two But the bride wouldn't to the chamber go They drank for days, they drank for three But the bridal bed she refused for to see Rosy youth They drank for three But the bridal bed she refused for to see Then entered in a poor ship's hand Wore a blue blouse both tattered and torn Rosy youth Poor ship's hand Wore a blue blouse both tattered and torn He stood at the table and he spoke I see only masts and the places where they go Rosy youth And he spoke I see only masts and the places where they go And the maiden went up to the high loft And ran down the path to the broad sea shore Rosy youth Went to the high loft And ran down the path to the broad sea shore She ran on the rocks, she ran on tiptoe But took great care to mind the blue waves below Rosy youth Ran on tiptoe But took great care to mind the blue waves below And they brought her on board the ship And there they bade her drink both mead and wine Rosy youth On board ship And there they bade her drink both mead and wine I see I see on your white fingers small The wedding band has not been there for long Rosy youth White fingers small The wedding band has not been there for long I see I see on your golden hair That before yesterday the wreath was not there Rosy youth Golden hair That before yesterday the wreath was not there I see I see on your lily white breasts That small children they have not consoled Rosy youth Lily white breasts That small children they have not consoled And now the maiden lays at poor Roland's side She feels neither sorrow nor anguish Rosy youth At poor Roland's side |
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| ZEVEN
STEKEN (Lyrics from the 'Keukenmeidenzangboek' (Kitchen Maid Songbook), Melody by Laïs) Hij was een jongeling van achttien jaren Die bij z'n meisje de liefde kwam verklaren Maar toen hij haar had van haar eer ontrukt Liet hij haar zitten met haar ongeluk 's Morgens kwam hij om haar te spreken Men zag de tranen van droefheid breken Zij sprak : Jongeman ziet wat gij doet Hetgeen ik draag is van uw vlees en bloed Hij nam haar dadelijk mee naar buiten In 't groen waar al die vogels fluiten Hij nam haar mee naar een rivier En sprak : uw laatste rustplaats is hier Hij heeft haar dadelijk vastgegrepen En nam een mes en gaf haar zeven steken Ja zeven steken, zij viel voor zijn voet Zij lag te baden in haar eigen bloed Adieu mijn vader, adieu mijn moeder Adieu mijn zuster, adieu mijn broeder Nu ga ik scheiden van de wereld af En ik ga rusten in het duister graf Ziet nu zo een moordenaar eens lopen Geen rust of duur om iets te hopen Nu loopt hij met zijn ogen vol getraan En kan z'n leven naar de gevangenis gaan |
SEVEN STABS (Lyrics from the 'Keukenmeidenzangboek' (Kitchen Maid Songbook), Melody by Laïs) It was a young boy of eighteen Who courted a young girl But after he debauched her He forsook her to her fate One morning he came to speak to her And she could not keep her tears She said: my friend, see what you do I bear in mine your flesh and blood He took her outdoors In the green where birds sang He lead her by a river Said: here shall be your last rest He held her fast Took a knife and gave her seven stabs Seven stabs, and she fell to his feet Lying on her own blood Farewell my father, farewell my mother Farewell my sister, farewell my brother Now I leave this world To rest in the darkness of a grave There flees the murderer Never can he hope for rest He flees with eyes full of tears He's living in prison till death. |
SEPT
COUPS DE POIGNARD (Version française par Nanok) C'était un garçon de dix-huit ans qui courtisait une jeune fille Mais quand il l'eut déshonorée Il l'abandonna à son malheur Un matin il vint lui parler Et ne pouvant contenir ses larmes Elle dit : mon ami, vois ce que tu fais Je porte en moi ta chair et ton sang Il l'emmena au dehors Dans les prés où chantent les oiseaux Il la mena près d'une rivière Disant : ici tu dormiras de ton dernier sommeil Il la saisit fermement Prit un couteau et par sept fois frappa Sept coups de poignard ; elle tomba à ses pieds Baignant dans son sang Adieu mon père, adieu ma mère Adieu ma sour, adieu mon frère Je dois maintenant quitter ce monde Pour reposer dans la noirceur de la tombe Voyez le meurtrier qui s'enfuit Pour lui plus jamais de repos Il fuit, les yeux plein de larmes C'est en prison qu'il va finir sa vie |
| TRI
MARTELOD (Trad. bretonne, arr. par Tri Yann) Tri martelod yaouank O lonia ladiguetra Tri martelod yaouank O voned da voyagi O voned da voyagi gué O voned da voyagi, O voned da voyagi gué O voned da voyagi Gant'el oant bet kaset O lonia ladiguetra Gant'el oant bet kaset Betek an douar nevez. Betek an douar nevez gué Betek an douar nevez, Betek an douar nevez gué Betek an douar nevez E kichen mein ar veil O lonia ladiguetra E kichen mein ar veil Odeus mouliet o erioù. Odeus mouliet o erioù gué Odeus mouliet o erioù, Odeus mouliet o erioù gué Odeus mouliet o erioù Ag e-barz ar veil-se O lonia ladiguetra Ag e-barz ar veil-se E oa eur servijourez. E oa eur servijourez gué E oa eur servijourez, E oa eur servijourez gué E oa eur servijourez Hag hi goulen ganin O lonia ladiguetra Hag hi goulen ganin Pelec'h peus gret konesans. Pelec'h peus gret konesans gué Pelec'h peus gret konesans Pelec'h peus gret konesans gué Pelec'h peus gret konesans E Naoned d'ar mar'had O lonia ladiguetra E Naoned d'ar mar'had Hi d'oa choaset eur walenn Hi d'oa choaset eur walenn gué Hi d'oa choaset eur walenn, Hi d'oa choaset eur walenn gué Hi d'oa choaset eur walenn Gwalenn ar bromesans O lonia ladiguetra Gwalenn ar bromesans A pavont da zimezi. A pavont da zimezi gué A pavont da zimezi, A pavont da zimezi gué A pavont da zimezi Ne zimezo d'an daou O lonia ladiguetra Ne zimezo d'an daou Ha ni a sont tiegez Ha ni a sont tiegez gué Ha ni a sont tiegez, Ha ni a sont tiegez gué Ha ni a sont tiegez Echu e ma chanson O lonia ladiguetra Echu e ma chanson An hini oar e-gontinu! |
THREE YOUNG SAILORS (Trad. from Brittany, arr. by Tri Yann) Three young sailors O lonia ladiguetra Three young sailors Set out for a journey They set out for a journey, yes They set out for a journey They set out for a journey, yes They set out for a journey Pushed by the wind, yes O lonia ladiguetra Pushed by the wind, yes Till a new land Till a new land, yes Till a new land Till a new land, yes Till a new land By the stones of a mill O lonia ladiguetra By the stones of a mill They dropped anchor They dropped anchor, yes They dropped anchor They dropped anchor, yes They dropped anchor And inside that mill O lonia ladiguetra And inside that mill There stood a servant There stood a servant, yes There stood a servant There stood a servant, yes There stood a servant And she asked me O lonia ladiguetra And she asked me Where had we met Where had we met, yes Where had we met Where had we met, yes Where had we met In Nantes, at the market O lonia ladiguetra In Nantes, at the market We chose a ring We chose a ring, yes We chose a ring We chose a ring, yes We chose a ring An engagement ring O lonia ladiguetra An engagement ring For those who will marry For those who will marry, yes For those who will marry For those who will marry, yes For those who will marry And we will marry O lonia ladiguetra And we will marry And will have a family And will have a family, yes And will have a family And will have a family, yes And will have a family And my song ends here O lonia ladiguetra And my song ends here Who knows the following sing on! |
TRE
MARINAI (Trad. bretone, arr. da Tri Yann) (Tr. it. di Riccardo Venturi) Tre giovani marinai, O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà Tre giovani marinai Partirono in viaggio Partirono in viaggio, sì, Partirono in viaggio Partirono in viaggio, sì Partirono in viaggio Spinti dal vento, sì, O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà Spinti dal vento, sì Fino a una nuova terra. Fino a una nuova terra, sì, Fino a una nuova terra Fino a una nuova terra, sì Fino a una nuova terra Accanto alle pietre d'un mulino O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà Accanto alle pietre d'un mulino Hanno gettato l'ancora. Hanno gettato l'ancora, sì, Hanno gettato l'ancora Hanno gettato l'ancora, sì, Hanno gettato l'ancora E dentro quel mulino, O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà E dentro quel mulino C'era una servetta. C'era una servetta, sì, C'era una servetta C'era una servetta, sì, C'era una servetta E lei mi domandò, O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà E lei mi domandò Dove ci eravamo conosciuti. Dove ci eravamo conosciuti, sì, Dove ci eravamo conosciuti, Dove ci eravamo conosciuti, sì Dove ci eravamo conosciuti A Nantes, al mercato O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà A Nantes, al mercato, Aveva scelto un anello. Aveva scelto un anello, sì, Aveva scelto un anello, Aveva scelto un anello, sì Aveva scelto un anello Un anello di fidanzamento. O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà Un anello di fidanzamento, Per quelli che si sposeranno. Per quelli che si sposeranno, sì, Per quelli che si sposeranno, Per quelli che si sposeranno, sì, Per quelli che si sposeranno E noi ci sposeremo, O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà E noi ci sposeremo E avremo una famiglia. E avremo una famiglia, sì, E avremo una famiglia, E avremo una famiglia, sì, E avremo una famiglia E la mia canzone è finita O lo-nià là-di-ghe-trà La mia canzone è finita E continui chi ne conosce il seguito! |
| LE
GRAND COUREUR (Chanson à vire de la tradition bretonne, ici dans la version jouée par Daniele Sepe) Le corsaire le Grand Coureur Est un navire de malheur Quand il s'en va croisière Pour aller chasser l'Anglais Le vent, la mer et la guerre Tournent contre le Français. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Il est parti de Lorient Avec mer belle et bon vent Il cinglait babord amure Naviguant comme un poisson Un grain tombe sur sa mâture v'la le corsaire en ponton. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement Il nous fallut remâter Et bougrement relinguer Tandis que l'ouvrage avance On signale par tribord Un navire d'apparence A mantelets de sabords. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! C'était un Anglais vraiment A double rangée de dents Un marchand de mort subite Mais le Français n'a pas peur Au lieu de brasser en fuite Nous le rangeons à l'honneur. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Les boulets pleuvent sur nous Nous lui rendons coups pour coups Pendant que la barbe en fume A nos braves matelots Dans un gros bouchon de brume Il nous échappe aussitôt. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Nos prises au bout de six mois Ont pu se monter à trois Un navir' plein de patates Plus qu'à moitié chaviré Un deuxième de savates Et le dernier de fumier. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement Pour nous refaire des combats Nous avions à nos repas Des gourganes, du lard rance Du vinaigre au lieu du vin Du biscuit pourri d'avance Et du camphre le matin. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement Pour finir ce triste sort Nous venons périr au port Dans cette affreuse misère Quand chacun s'est vu perdu Chacun selon sa manière S'est sauvé comme il a pu. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Le cap'taine et son second S'ont sauvé sur un canon Le maître sur la grande ancre Le commis dans son bidon Ah le sacré vilain cancre Le voleur de rations. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Il eût fallu voir le coq Et sa cuisine et son croc Il s'est mis dans un' chaudière Comme un vilain pot au feu Il est parti vent arrière attérit au feu de Dieu. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! De notre horrible malheur Seul le calfat est l'auteur En tombant de la grand'hune Dessus le gaillard d'avant A rebondi dans la cambuse A crevé le bâtiment. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Si l'histoire du Grand Coureur A su vous toucher le cour Ayez donc belles manières Et payez-nous largement Du vin, du rack, de la bière Et nous serons tous contents. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! |
THE PRIVATEER "GRAND COUREUR" ("Chanson à vire" or capstan song from Brittany English version by Riccardo Venturi) The privateer Grand Coureur Is a poor, unlucky ship, When she sets out so bold To chase the English at sea Alas! The wind, sea and war Turn their back to the French. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! She sailed out from Lorient With still sea, and fair winds That drove her from larboard Making her sail like a fish. But there it comes a storm And, alas! She's made a wreck. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! All the masts had we to mend Working hard like negro slaves, And as work is still going on Someone calls from starboard. Here comes a ship boarding, And she's full of cannonguns. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! It was just an English ship showing her two rows of guns. Looked like a true deathmonger, but the French do not fear her. So, instead of taking flight, we'll engage in the fight. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! The balls flying o'er our heads, we repaid 'em one by one, our brave sailormen's beards are steaming in the great toil! Then the English ship it sneaks in a fog bank and disappears. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! Here's what we picked up in six months roving at sea: a ship loaded with potatoes just half-wrecked, as you see, and another carrying slippers, and the last loaded with dung. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! To recover from the fight We got a nice meal indeed: A slop, rancid lard in slices, Sour vinegar instead of wine, Mouldy biscuits gone long since, Camphor brandy for breakfast. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! To get rid of our bad fate We're drawing to the port To put an end to disgraces By death, seeing how it'll end. Everyone of us is trying to reach safety his own way! Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! The captain and his adjutant Clinging to a floating gun, The boatswain to the big anchor, The storekeeper to a barrel, That bloody old motherfucker! He always stole our allowance. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! Behold now the ship's cook With his kitchen and his hooks, How he's hidden in a big pot just like stale bread soup, sailing away with the wind as if pursued by the hell fire. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! All our bad luck, I tell ye, is the caulker's fault, you see: he fell down from the maintop on to th' slippery stemdeck, bounced back down the caboose and the girders he did break. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! If the story of Grand Coureur your heart it did move to weep be so kind as to repay us by your gratefulness so deep! Give us wine, brandy and beer and we'll drink your health to keep! Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! |
IL
GRAND COUREUR (Chanson à vire, canto tradizionale che i marinai bretoni intonano girando l'arganetto per tirar su e giù il canapo dell'ancora, che si chiama cabestano) (Tr. it. di Riccardo Venturi) Il Grand Coureur È una nave pirata sfortunata ! Quando se ne va per mare A dar la caccia agli Inglesi Il vento, il mare e la guerra Cambiano in peggio contro i Francesi. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! È partita da Lorient Col mare calmo e buon vento, Faceva vela a babordo Navigando come un pesce Quando si becca una burrasca Ed eccola ridotta a un relitto. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Ci è toccato rifar l'alberatura E lavorar come degli schiavi, E mentre il lavoro va avanti Ci segnalano a tribordo Una nave, all'apparenza Piena di bocche di cannoni. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Era davvero una nave inglese Con una doppia fila di cannoni, Un mercante di morte improvvisa, Ma i francesi non hanno paura, E invece di battere in fuga Ingaggiamo la battaglia. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Le palle ci piovono addosso, Ma noi gli rendiamo colpo per colpo, E mentre ai nostri marinai Fuma la barba per lo sforzo In un gran banco di nebbia S'infila e subito ci scappa. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Le nostre prede, in sei mesi, Ammontano ben a tre: Una nave carica di patate Gia' mezza affondata, Un'altra di ciabatte E l'ultima di letame. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Per riprendersi dai combattimenti Abbiamo come pasto Una sbobba, del lardo rancido, Aceto invece di vino, Del biscotto marcio già da prima E, il mattino, spirito di canfora. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Per finirla con questa scalogna Veniamo a morire al porto, E in questa disgrazia spaventosa Quando tutti si son visti perduti Ognuno alla sua maniera S'è messo in salvo come ha potuto. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Il capitano e il suo aiutante Si son salvati sopra un cannone, Il nostromo sulla grande ancora, Il cambusiere in un bidone, Ah! Quel gran pezzo di merda, Quel ladro di razioni. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Avreste dovuto vedere il cuoco, La sua cucina e i suoi ganci, S'è infilato in un pentolone Come un volgare minestrone, È partito col vento in poppa Come avesse il fuoco al culo. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Della nostra orribile sfortuna Solo autore è il calafato: È caduto dalla coffa Sopra al castello di prua, Poi è rimbalzato nella cambusa Spaccando tutta la travatura. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! Se la storia del Grand Coureur Vi ha saputo toccare il cuore Siate dunque assai gentili E dateci in abbondanza Vino, rack e birra E saremo tutti contenti. Andiamo, su, ragazzi, allegri! Su, ragazzi, allegri ! |
| LE GRAND VENT (Laïs & Ludo Vandeau) Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Trois demoiselles y vont danser Elles ont mangé mon coeur Elles m'ont mis la tête à l'envers Et m'ont montré toutes les couleurs Du grand vent qui vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente La première est vêtue de blanc J'aurai son coeur je ne veux qu'elle et si je mens C'est qu'elle a mêlé les couleurs Dans le grand vent qui vente Je danse l'eau et les serments La nuit entre mes mains Les promesses des amants Les regrets du matin Dans le grand vent qui vente S'il veut les trois il n'aura rien Que le grand vent qui vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente La deuxième est vêtue de bleu J'aurai son coeur Avec les autres si je peux Je mêlerai les couleurs Dans le grand vent qui vente Je danse la joie et le doute Les perles de rosée Pour les arbres sur les routes Les amitiés Dans le grand vent qui vente S'il veut les trois il n'aura rien Que le grand vent qui vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente La troisième est vêtue de noir J'aurai son coeur Je n'aurai besoin d'aller voir Aucune autre couleur Dans le grand vent qui vente Je dansais la cendre et le feu Les lendemains Mon amant est devenu trop vieux Et il s'éteint Dans le grand vent qui vente S'il veut les trois il n'aura rien Que le grand vent qui vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Et le grand vent y vente Trois demoiselles sont parties Elles ont mangé mon coeur Et n'ont laissé que leurs habits Mais ils ont perdu leurs couleurs Dans le grand vent qui vente Sur la mer il y a un pré Sur la mer il y a un pré Sur la mer il y a un pré |
THE STRONG WIND On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there Three maidens are going to dance there They have eaten my heart Put my head upside down Shown me all the colours Of the strong wind blowing On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there The first one is dressed in white I will have her heart I don't want but her and if I'm lying It's her who mixed the colours In the strong wind blowing I dance water and vows Night in my hands Lovers' perjures Morning remorses In the strong wind blowing If he wants the three he won't have any But the strong wind blowing On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there The second one is dressed in blue I will have her heart With the others if I can I will mix the colours In the strong wind blowing I dance joy and doubt And dewdrops For trees on the roads And friendships In the strong wind blowing If he wants the three he won't have any But the strong wind blowing On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there The third one is dressed in black I will have her heart I won't need to go and see Any other colour In the strong wind blowing I danced ashes and fire The days after My lover has grown too old And passed away In the strong wind blowing If he wants the three he won't have any But the strong wind blowing On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there On the sea there is a meadow And the strong wind blows there Three maidens have left They have eaten my heart And haven't left but their dresses That have lost all colour though In the strong wind blowing On the sea there is a meadow On the sea there is a meadow On the sea there is a meadow |
IL
GRAN VENTO Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Tre damigelle ci danzeranno Hanno mangiato il mio cuore Mi hanno rovesciato la testa E mi han mostrato tutti i colori Del gran vento che soffia Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento La prima è vestita di bianco Avrò il suo cuore Non voglio che lei e se sto mentendo È lei che ha mischiato i colori Nel gran vento che soffia Danzo l'acqua e i giuramenti La notte nelle mie mani Le promesse degli amanti I rimpianti del mattino Nel gran vento che soffia Se le vuole tutt'e tre non avrà niente Se non il gran vento che soffia Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento La seconda è vestita di blu Avrò il suo cuore Con gli altri se posso Mischierò i colori Nel gran vento che soffia Danzo la gioia e il dubbio Le perle di rugiada Per gli alberi sulle strade Le amicizie Nel gran vento che soffia Se le vuole tutt'e tre non avrà niente Se non il gran vento che soffia Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento La terza è vestita di nero Avrò il suo cuore Non avrò bisogno di andare a vedere Alcun altro colore Nel gran vento che soffia Danzavo la cenere e il fuoco L'indomani Il mio amante è diventato troppo vecchio E si è spento Nel gran vento che soffia Se le vuole tutt'e tre non avrà niente Se non il gran vento che soffia Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Sul mare c'è un prato E ci soffia il gran vento Tre damigelle sono partite Hanno mangiato il mio cuore E non hanno lasciato che i loro vestiti Ma questi hanno perso i loro colori Nel gran vento che soffia Sul mare c'è un prato Sul mare c'è un prato Sul mare c'è un prato |
| WARME
GARNARS (Trad. Dutch fishermen's song from Jan Frans Willems' songbook, arr. by Blootland") Moeder ik wil hebben een man Warme garnars smory Die mij den kost wel winnen kan Warme garnars, warme garnars Warme garnars, smory Wel mijn dochter gij zijt te jong Warme garnars, smory Gij moet nog wachten een jaar rond Warme garnars, warme garnars Warme garnars, smory Moeder ik ben oud genoeg Warme garnars smory Mijn Jan is knap en welbeproefd Warme garnars, warme garnars Warme garnars, smory Moeder, moeder, geef mij ne man Warme garnars smory Die mij dees koude winter kan Warmen, warmen, warmen, warmen Warme garnars smory |
WARM
SHRIMPS Mother I want to have a man Warm shrimps smoked Who can earn me my living Warm shrimps, warm shrimps Warm shrimps smoked Well, my daughter, you're too young Warm shrimps smoked You will have to wait another year round Warm shrimps, warm shrimps Warm shrimps smoked Mother I'm old enough Warm shrimps smoked My Jan is handsome and skilled Warm shrimps, warm shrimps Warm shrimps smoked Mother, mother, give me a man Warm shrimps smoked who can keep me warm this winter Warm me up, warm me Warm shrimps smoked |
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| GRAND
JACQUES (Jacques Brel, chantée aussi par Laïs) C'est trop facile d'entrer aux églises De déverser toute sa saleté Face au curé qui dans la lumière grise Ferme les yeux pour mieux nous pardonner Tais-toi donc, grand Jacques Que connais-tu du Bon Dieu Un cantique, une image Tu n'en connais rien de mieux C'est trop facile quand les guerres sont finies D'aller gueuler que c'était la dernière Ami bourgeois vous me faites envie Vous ne voyez donc point vos cimetières? Tais-toi donc, grand Jacques Laisse-les donc crier Laisse-les pleurer de joie Toi qui ne fus même pas soldat C'est trop facile quand un amour se meurt Qu'il craque en deux parce qu'on l'a trop plié D'aller pleurer comme les hommes pleurent Comme si l'amour durait l'éternité Tais-toi donc, grand Jacques Que connais-tu de l'amour Des yeux bleus, des cheveux fous Tu n'en connais rien du tout Et dis-toi donc grand Jacques Dis-le-toi bien souvent C'est trop facile C'est trop facile De faire semblant |
BIG JACQUES It's too easy to step inside a church And drop all your dirt Staring at the priest who in the dim light Closes his eyes to ease his forgiveness So hush, big Jacques What do you know of the Good God A chant, an icon You don't know anything better It's too easy when a war is over To bawl that this was the last My bourgeous friend I feel envy for you Don't you see your graveyards then? So hush, big Jacques Let them cry at last Let them cry for joy You, who were never a soldier It's too easy when love dies Fold too much and then broken To go and cry as men cry As though love could last for ever So hush, big Jacques What do you know of love Some blue eyes, some unruly locks You don't know anything at all So say this, big Jacques, And repeat it often to yourself It's too easy It's too easy To pretend |
GRANDE
GIACOMO È troppo facile entrare nelle chiese A scaricare tutta la propria lordura La faccia al curato che nella luce grigia Chiude gli occhi per meglio perdonarci Sta' zitto, allora, gran Giacomo Che conosci tu del Buon Dio Un cantico, un'immagine Non ne conosci niente di meglio È troppo facile quando le guerre sono finite Mettersi a sbraitare che questa era l'ultima Amico borghese la invidio Non li vede proprio i suoi cimiteri? Sta' zitto, allora, grande Giacomo Lasciali un po' gridare Lasciali piangere di gioia Tu che non sei mai neanche stato soldato È troppo facile quando muore un amore Che si spacca in due perché è stato troppo piegato Mettersi a piangere come piangono gli uomini Come se l'amore durasse l'eternità Sta zitto, allora, grande Giacomo Che conosci tu dell'amore Degli occhi blu, dei capelli ribelli Non ne sai proprio niente E allora ripètitelo, grande Giacomo Ripètitelo spesso È troppo facile È troppo facile Fare finta |
| DEN
DROOGEN HAERING (Trad. Flemish fishermen's song, here sung by Wè-nun Henk) Ja, van de droge haring zullen we zingen Ter ere van z'n kopje zullen we springen 't is van z'n kop, spring er maar op 't is van de droge haring. Ja, van de droge haring zullen we zingen Ter ere van z'n oren zullen we springen 't is van z'n oor, spring er maar op 't is van de droge haring. Ja, van de droge haring zullen wij zingen. Ter ere van zijn buikske zullen wij springen. 't Is van zijn buik, springt er maar puik, 't is van de droge haring. Ja, van de droge haring zullen wij zingen. Ter ere van zijn stertje zullen wij springen. 't Is van zijn stert, da's 't minste werd, 't is van de droge haring. Ja, van de droge haring zullen wij zingen. Ter ere van zijn hartje zullen wij springen. 't Is van zijn hart, springt er maar hard, 't is van de droge haring. Ja, van de droge haring zullen wij zingen. Ter ere van zijn liefke zullen wij zingen. 't Is van zijn lief, da's zijn gerief, 't is van de droge haring. Ja, van de droge haring zullen wij zingen. Ter ere van zijn wijfke zullen wij springen. 't Is van zijn wijf, da's zijn gekijf, 't is van de droge haring. |
THE
DRY HERRING It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little head It's from the head, and jump right off It is from dry herring we will sing It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little ears It's from the ear, and jump right off It is from dry herring we will sing It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little belly It's from the belly, and jump right ??? It is from dry herring we will sing It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little ??? It's from the ???, ??? It is from dry herring we will sing It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little heart It's from the hart, and jump quick It is from dry herring we will sing It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little sweetheart It's from its love, that's its comfort It is from dry herring we will sing It is from dry herring we will sing Together we are going to jump off its little female It's from its female, that's its ??? It is from dry herring we will sing |
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| DE
TVÅ SYSTRARNA (Swedish medieval ballad, arr. by Folk och Rackare) Där bodde en bonde vid sjöastrand Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Och tvenne döttrar hade han Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Den ena var vit som den klara sol Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Den andra var svart som den svartaste kol Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Vi tvättar oss bägge i vattnet nu Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Så blir jag väl som viter som du Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Å tvättar du dig både nätter och dar Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Så aldrig du blir som viter som hjag Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Och som de nu stodo på sjöastrand Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Så stötte den fulaste sin syster av sand Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Kära min syster du hjälp mig i land Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Och dig vill jag giva min lille fästeman Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Din fästeman honom får jag ändå Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Men aldrig ska du mer på gröna jorden gå Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Där bodde en spelman vid en strand Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Han såg i vattnet var liket det sam Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Spelemannen henne till stranden bar Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Och gjorde av henne en harpa så rar Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Spelemannen tog hennes guldgula hår Harporsträngar ravar [?] står Spelemannen tog hennes fingrar små Gjorde harpan tapplor på Spelemannen tog hennes snövita bröst Harpan hon klinga med ljuvelig röst Så bar harpan i bröllopsgård Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Där bruden hon dansar med gulleband i hår Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Trenne slag uppå gullharpan rann Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Den bruden har tagit min lille fästeman Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Om söndan så satt hon i brudstol röd Blåser kallt kallt väder över sjön Om måndan hon brändes i aska och dö |
LE
DUE SORELLE Viveva un contadino presso la spiaggia Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare E due figlie aveva lui Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Una era bianca come il sole chiaro Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare L'altra era nera come il carbone più nero Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Ci laviamo entrambe nell'acqua ora Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Così diverrò io bianca proprio come te Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare E lavati tu giorni e notti Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Così mai diverrai bianca come me Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare E quando stavano in piedi presso la spiaggia Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Allora la più cattiva colpì la sorella con la [?] sabbia Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Cara sorella mia aiutami a tornare a riva Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare E io ti darò il mio fidanzatino Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Il tuo fidanzatino lo posso prendere comunque Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Ma mai più camminerai sulla terra verde tu Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Viveva un suonatore presso una spiaggia Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Vide che nell'acqua c'era il cadavere [?] Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Il suonatore la portò fino alla spiaggia Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare E fece di lei un'arpa così graziosa Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Il suonatore prese i suoi capelli d'oro Corde dell'arpa stanno ??? Il suonatore prese le sue dita minute E ci fece ??? per l'arpa Il suonatore prese i suoi seni candidi come neve Lei suonava l'arpa con voce meravigliosa Allora portò l'arpa nel giardino del matrimonio Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Là danza la sposa con i capelli cinti d'oro Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Tre colpi corsero sull'arpa dorata Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare La sposa ha preso il mio fidanzatino Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Di domenica era seduta nel rosso seggio di sposa Soffia freddo vento freddo sul mare Di lunedì era bruciata in ceneri e morì |
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| AMSTERDAM (Jacques Brel) Dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui chantent Les rêves qui les hantent Au large d'Amsterdam Dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui dorment Comme des oriflammes Le long des berges mornes Dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui meurent Pleins de bière et de drames Aux premières lueurs Mais dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui naissent Dans la chaleur épaisse Des langueurs océanes Dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui mangent Sur des nappes trop blanches Des poissons ruisselants Ils vous montrent des dents A croquer la fortune A décroisser la lune A bouffer des haubans Et ça sent la morue Jusque dans le coeur des frites Que leurs grosses mains invitent A revenir en plus Puis se lèvent en riant Dans un bruit de tempête Referment leur braguette Et sortent en rotant Dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui dansent En se frottant la panse Sur la panse des femmes Et ils tournent et ils dansent Comme des soleils crachés Dans le son déchiré D'un accordéon rance Ils se tordent le cou Pour mieux s'entendre rire Jusqu'à ce que tout à coup L'accordéon expire Alors le geste grave Alors le regard fier Ils ramènent leur batave Jusqu'en pleine lumière Dans le port d'Amsterdam Y a des marins qui boivent Et qui boivent et reboivent Et qui reboivent encore Ils boivent à la santé Des putains d'Amsterdarn De Hambourg ou d'ailleurs Enfin ils boivent aux dames Qui leur donnent leur joli corps Qui leur donnent leur vertu Pour une pièce en or Et quand ils ont bien bu Se plantent le nez au ciel Se mouchent dans les étoiles Et ils pissent comme je pleure Sur les femmes infidèles Dans le port d'Amsterdam Dans le port d'Amsterdam. |
AMSTERDAM (Nederlandse versie van Liesbeth List) In dat Oud-Amsterdam, in de buurt van de haven Gaan de zeelui zich laven, drinken 't hek van de dam In dat Oud-Amsterdam, liggen zeelieden dronken Als een wimpel zo lam, in de dokken te ronken In dat Oud-Amsterdam, krijgt een zeeman de stuipen Tot hij zich, grauw van gram, in 't bier wil verzuipen Maar in Oud-Amsterdam zie je zeelui ontkatert Als de ochtendzon schatert, over Damrak en Dam In dat Oud-Amsterdam, zie je zeelieden bikken Zilv'ren haringen slikken, bij de staart, uit de hand Van de hand in de tand smijten zij met hun knaken Want ze zullen 'm raken, als een kat in 't want En ze stinken naar aal, in hun grofblauwe truien En ze stinken naar uien, daarmee doen ze hun maal Na dat maal staan ze op, om hun broek op te hijsen En dan gaan ze weer hijsen, tot 't boert in hun krop In dat Oud-Amsterdam zie je zeelieden zwieren En dan de meiden versieren, lijf aan lijf, warm en klam En draaien hun bals als een went'lende zon Op de klank, dun en vol, van een accordeon En zo rood als een kreeft happen zij naar wat lucht Tot opeens, met een zucht, de muziek 't begeeft Met een air van gewicht voeren zij met wat spijt Dan hun Mokumse meid weer terug in het licht In dat Oud-Amsterdam gaan de zeelui aan 't drinken Aan 't drinken en drinken, en daar nog 'es op drinken Tot 't Oude Kerksplein op een thuishaven lijkt En de hoer in 't kozijn net als moedertje kijkt En haar borst is de borst van verloofde of vrouw En daarna weer zo'n dorst, en de nacht wordt al grauw Want op terug naar de schuit en de kater breekt aan En ze snikken 't uit, tegen meerpaal en kraam In dat Oud-Amsterdam, in 't Oud-Amsterdam In dat Oud-Amsterdam |
AMSTERDAM (English version by David Bowie) In the port of Amsterdam There's a sailor who sings Of the dreams that he brings From the wide open sea In the port of Amsterdam There's a sailor who sleeps While the river bank weeps To the old willow tree In the port of Amsterdam There's a sailor who dies Full of beer, full of cries In a drunken town fight In the port of Amsterdam There's a sailor who's born On a hot muggy morn By the dawn's early light In the port of Amsterdam Where the sailors all meet There's a sailor who eats Only fish heads and tails And he'll show you his teeth That have rotted too soon That can haul up the sails That can swallow the moon And he yells to the cook With his arms open wide "Hey, bring me more fish Throw it down by my side" And he wants so to belch But he's too full to try So he stands up and laughs And he zips up his fly In the port of Amsterdam You can see sailors dance Paunches bursting their pants Grinding women to porch They've forgotten the tune That their whiskey voice croaked Splitting the night With the roar of their jokes And they turn and they dance And they laugh and they lust Till the rancid sound of the accordion bursts And then out of the night With their pride in their pants And the sluts that they tow Underneath the street lamps In the port of Amsterdam There's a sailor who drinks And he drinks and he drinks And he drinks once again He'll drink to the health Of the whores of Amsterdam Who've given their bodies To a thousand other men Yeah, they've bargained their virtue Their goodness all gone For a few dirty coins Well he just can't go on Throws his nose to the sky And he aims it up above And he pisses like I cry On the unfaithful love In the port of Amsterdam In the port of Amsterdam... |
| LU RUSCIU TE LU MARE (Trad., Alla Bua) Nna sira ieu passava te li patuli E ntisi le cargnoccule cantare E ntisi le cargnoccule cantare A una a una ieu le sintia cantare Ca me pariane lu rusciu te lu mare Ca me pariane lu rusciu te lu mare. Lu rusciu te lu mare è mutu forte La fija te lu re se ta alla morte Iddra se ta alla morte e ieu alla vita La fija te lu re sta sse marita Iddra sta sse marita e ieu me nsuru La fija te lu re me ta nu fiuru Iddra me ta nu fiuru e ieu na parma La fija te lu re sta ba alla Spagna Iddra sta ba alla Spagna e ieu in Turchia La fija te lu re la zita mia E vola vola vola palomma vola E vola vola vola palomma mia Ca ieu lu core meu ca ieu lu core meu Ca ieu lu core meu te l'aggiu dare Lu rusciu te lu mare è mutu forte La fija te lu re se ta alla morte La fija te lu re se ta alla morte |
THE ROAR OF THE SEA One night I was walking along the marsh And I heard the frogs singing And I heard the frogs singing One by one I heard them singing So that it sounded like the roar of the sea So that it sounded like the roar of the sea The roar of the sea is very loud The king's daughter gives herself to death She gives herself to death and I to life The king's daughter is going to get married She's going to be married and I'll be bridegroom The king's daughter gives me a flower She gives me a flower and I give her a palmtree The king's daughter is going to Spain She's going to Spain and I'm to Turkey The kings's daughter my sweetheart And fly fly fly dove fly And fly fly fly my dove For I have got this heart For I have got this heart to give you The roar of the sea is very loud The king's daughter gives herself to death The king's daughter gives herself to death |
IL RUMORE
DEL MARE Nna sire ieu passava te li patuli E ntisi le cargnoccule cantare E ntisi le cargnoccule cantare A una a una ieu le sintia cantare Ca me pariane lu rusciu te lu mare Ca me pariane lu rusciu te lu mare. Lu rusciu te lu mare è mutu forte La fija te lu re se ta alla morte Iddra se ta alla morte e ieu alla vita La fija te lu re sta sse marita Iddra sta sse marita e ieu me nsuru La fija te lu re me ta nu fiuru Iddra me ta nu fiuru e ieu na parma La fija te lu re sta ba alla Spagna Iddra sta ba alla Spagna e ieu in Turchia La fija te lu re la zita mia E vola vola vola palomma vola E vola vola vola palomma mia Ca ieu lu core meu ca ieu lu core meu Ca ieu lu core meu te l'aggiu dare Lu rusciu te lu mare è mutu forte La fija te lu re se ta alla morte La fija te lu re se ta alla morte |
| [Unknown Title] (Dr. Bajan & Brain Drain) |
GUESS WHO |
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| RUSKIE NEITSYT (Värttinä) Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä konsabo meille gostjah tulloh, gostjah tulloh? Mustapiäl pietenisänä, pietenisänä minun vel'el suovattana, suovattana minun miiloi pyhänpiän, pyhänpiän. Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä midäbö heille syötetäh, syötetäh? Mustapiäl leibiä de leibiä minunn vel'el kalittoo, kalittoo minun miiloi piiraidu, piiraidu. Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä midäpä heille juotetah, juotetah? Mustapiäl tsoojuo da tsoojuo minun vel'el kofeidu, kofeidu minun miiloi piivoa da piivoa. Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä kunneba heijät muat pannah, muat pannah? Mustapiäl perttih ja perttih minun vel'el gornitsaa ja gornitsaa minun miiloi tsardakkaa ja tsardakkaa. Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä midapä heille ual pannah, ual pannah? Mustapiäl posteli, posteli minun vel'el perinä, perinä minun miiloi buhovoit, buhovoit. Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä midäpä heille kattiekse, kattiekse? Mustapiäl vuattaa da vuattaa minun vel'el odjuala, odjuala minun miiloi barhattaa, barhattaa. Ruskie neitsyt, valkie neitsyt sano sinä, sano sinä kedäpä heille rinnalle, rinnalle? Mustapiäl Muarjaa da Muarjaa minun vel'el Duarjaa da Duarjaa minun miiloi itseni, itseni. |
BROWN-HAIRED MAIDEN (English translation by Jaakko Mäntyjärvi) Brown haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, When shall we have visitors, Have visitors? Black-haired one on Friday, Friday My brother on Saturday, Saturday My love on Sunday, Sunday. Brown-haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, What shall we give them to eat? Black-haired one shall have bread My brother shall have a stuffed loaf My love shall have pies. Brown-haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, What shall we give them to drink? Black-haired one shall have tea My brother shall have coffee My love shall have beer. Brown-haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, Where shall they sleep? Black-haired one in the large room My brother in the granary My love in the hut. Brown-haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, What shall they sleep on? Black-haired one on a straw bolster My brother on a feather bed My love on the softest cushions. Brown-haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, What shall we give them for covers? Black-haired one a skin My brother a blanket My love a soft quilt. Brown-haired maiden, blond maiden, Tell me, tell me, Who shall lie down with them? Black-haired one with Muarja My brother with Duarja My love with myself. |
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| GRAND COUREUR (Polish version by Cztery Refy) Wielki korsarz "Grand Coureur" to był okręt krwawych łez. Kiedyśmy na morze szli, żeby tam Anglików bić, Zdrajca morze, nawet wiatr obrócił się przeciwko nam. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Wypłynęliśmy z L'Orient, gładka fala, świeży wiatr. Jeszcze bracie widać ląd, a już gnają nas do pomp. Pierwszy podmuch złamał maszt, bo zgniły był cholerny wrak. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Nową stengę cieśla dał, trzeba zapleść kilka want. A tu znów cholerny bal, burtą stanąć trza do fal. Hej tam! Ster prawo na burt! Odpalić mi ze wszystkich rur! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Angol bardzo blisko był, lufy w rzędach miał jak kły, Niósł po morzach nagłą śmierć, ale Francuz nie bał się. Hej tam! Ster prawo na burt! Odpalić mi ze wszystkich rur! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! On kulami pluł nam w nos, a my w niego cios za cios. Hej, abordaż! Wczepiaj hak! Zaraz Angol będzie nasz! A tu gruby korek mgły Angola nam na zawsze skrył. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Tak minęło dwieście dni, zdobyliśmy pryzy trzy: Pierwszy - wpół przegniły wrak, drugi - kapeć tyleż wart, Trzeci - hulk, co woził gnój, z nim był też cholerny bój. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Żeby nikt nie opadł z sił, doskonały prowiant był: Żyły i zjełczały łój, zamiast wina - octu słój. Suchar stary, ale był, choć w każdym robak biały żył. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Srogo los po rufach lał, w porcie przyjdzie zdychać nam. Dwieście dni i pusty trzos, pieski rejs, parszywy los. Każdy zgubę widzi już i każdy szuka wyjścia dróg. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Szyper jedną z armat wziął, skoczył z nią w przepastną toń. Bosman ruszył w jego ślad, dzierżąc się kotwicy łap. Ochmistrz, w wielkiej kłótni drań, pijany leń i złodziej dań. Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Jaja były, kiedy kuk łyżką od śmierdzących zup Sam do kotła wcisnął się, pierwszy raz był w kotle wieprz. I odpłynął z wiatrem gdzieś, a niech go porwie piekła brzeg! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Nawet autor pieśni tej ze zgryzoty skoczył z rej. Huknął o kuchenny blat, prosto do kubryku wpadł. No a skutek taki był, że okręt rozbił w drobny pył! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło, chłopcy, hej! Jeśli tej historii treść poruszyła kilka serc, Dobrych manier nie brak wam, Hej, postawcie wina dzban! Bo gdy się śpiewa, w gardle schnie, no a z wyschniętym gardłem źle. Pijmy chłopcy, hej! Wesoło chłopcy, hej! Razem chłopcy, hej! Wesoło chłopcy, hej! |
LE GRAND COUREUR (Chanson à vire de la tradition bretonne) Le corsaire le Grand Coureur Est un navire de malheur Quand il s'en va croisière Pour aller chasser l'Anglais Le vent, la mer et la guerre Tournent contre le Français. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Il est parti de Lorient Avec mer belle et bon vent Il cinglait babord amure Naviguant comme un poisson Un grain tombe sur sa mâture v'la le corsaire en ponton. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement Il nous fallut remâter Et bougrement relinguer Tandis que l'ouvrage avance On signale par tribord Un navire d'apparence A mantelets de sabords. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! C'était un Anglais vraiment A double rangée de dents Un marchand de mort subite Mais le Français n'a pas peur Au lieu de brasser en fuite Nous le rangeons à l'honneur. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Les boulets pleuvent sur nous Nous lui rendons coups pour coups Pendant que la barbe en fume A nos braves matelots Dans un gros bouchon de brume Il nous échappe aussitôt. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Nos prises au bout de six mois Ont pu se monter à trois Un navir' plein de patates Plus qu'à moitié chaviré Un deuxième de savates Et le dernier de fumier. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement Pour nous refaire des combats Nous avions à nos repas Des gourganes, du lard rance Du vinaigre au lieu du vin Du biscuit pourri d'avance Et du camphre le matin. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement Pour finir ce triste sort Nous venons périr au port Dans cette affreuse misère Quand chacun s'est vu perdu Chacun selon sa manière S'est sauvé comme il a pu. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Le cap'taine et son second S'ont sauvé sur un canon Le maître sur la grande ancre Le commis dans son bidon Ah le sacré vilain cancre Le voleur de rations. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Il eût fallu voir le coq Et sa cuisine et son croc Il s'est mis dans un' chaudière Comme un vilain pot au feu Il est parti vent arrière attérit au feu de Dieu. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! De notre horrible malheur Seul le calfat est l'auteur En tombant de la grand'hune Dessus le gaillard d'avant A rebondi dans la cambuse A crevé le bâtiment. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! Si l'histoire du Grand Coureur A su vous toucher le cour Ayez donc belles manières Et payez-nous largement Du vin, du rack, de la bière Et nous serons tous contents. Allons les gars gai, gai Allons les gars gaiement! |
THE PRIVATEER "GRAND COUREUR" ("Chanson à vire" or capstan song from Brittany English version by Riccardo Venturi) The privateer Grand Coureur Is a poor, unlucky ship, When she sets out so bold To chase the English at sea Alas! The wind, sea and war Turn their back to the French. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! She sailed out from Lorient With still sea, and fair winds That drove her from larboard Making her sail like a fish. But there it comes a storm And, alas! She's made a wreck. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! All the masts had we to mend Working hard like negro slaves, And as work is still going on Someone calls from starboard. Here comes a ship boarding, And she's full of cannonguns. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! It was just an English ship showing her two rows of guns. Looked like a true deathmonger, but the French do not fear her. So, instead of taking flight, we'll engage in the fight. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! The balls flying o'er our heads, we repaid 'em one by one, our brave sailormen's beards are steaming in the great toil! Then the English ship it sneaks in a fog bank and disappears. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! Here's what we picked up in six months roving at sea: a ship loaded with potatoes just half-wrecked, as you see, and another carrying slippers, and the last loaded with dung. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! To recover from the fight We got a nice meal indeed: A slop, rancid lard in slices, Sour vinegar instead of wine, Mouldy biscuits gone long since, Camphor brandy for breakfast. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! To get rid of our bad fate We're drawing to the port To put an end to disgraces By death, seeing how it'll end. Everyone of us is trying to reach safety his own way! Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! The captain and his adjutant Clinging to a floating gun, The boatswain to the big anchor, The storekeeper to a barrel, That bloody old motherfucker! He always stole our allowance. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! Behold now the ship's cook With his kitchen and his hooks, How he's hidden in a big pot just like stale bread soup, sailing away with the wind as if pursued by the hell fire. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! All our bad luck, I tell ye, is the caulker's fault, you see: he fell down from the maintop on to th' slippery stemdeck, bounced back down the caboose and the girders he did break. Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! If the story of Grand Coureur your heart it did move to weep be so kind as to repay us by your gratefulness so deep! Give us wine, brandy and beer and we'll drink your health to keep! Come on, boys, come on! Come on, boys, stay merry! |
| LOS CUATRO GENERALES (Coplas de la defensa de Madrid, 1936, Guerra civil española, Ernst Busch) Los cuatro generales, Los cuatro generales, Los cuatro generales ¡Mamita mía! Se habían alzado, Se habían alzado. Para la Nochebuena, Para la Nochebuena, Para la Nochebuena, ¡Mamita mía! Serán ahorcados, Serán ahorcados. Madrid que bien resiste, Madrid que bien resiste, Madrid que bien resiste, ¡Mamita mía! Los bombardeos, Los bombardeos. De las bombas se ríen, De las bombas se ríen, De las bombas se ríen, ¡Mamita mía! Los Madrileños, Los Madrileños. Madrid, Dich wunderbare, Madrid, Dich wunderbare, Madrid, Dich wunderbare, ¡Mamita mía! Dich wollten sie nehmen, Dich wollten sie nehmen. Doch deiner treuen Söhne, Doch deiner treuen Söhne, Doch deiner treuen Söhne, ¡Mamita mía! Brauchst Dich nicht zu schämen, Brauchst Dich nicht zu schämen. Und alle deine Tränen, Und alle deine Tränen, Und alle deine Tränen, ¡Mamita mía! Die werden wir rächen, Die werden wir rächen. Und alle unsre Knechtschaft, Und alle unsre Knechtschaft, Und alle unsre Knechtschaft, ¡Mamita mía! Die werden wir brechen, Die werden wir brechen. |
THE FOUR GENERALS The four generals, The four generals, The four generals, ¡Mamita mía! Had risen, Had risen. By Christmas' Eve, By Christmas' Eve, By Christmas' Eve, ¡Mamita mía! They'll be hanged, They'll be hanged. Madrid that holds on well, Madrid that holds on well, Madrid that holds on well, ¡Mamita mía! The bombings, The bombings. Bombs make them laugh, Bombs make them laugh, Bombs make them laugh, ¡Mamita mía! People from Madrid, People from Madrid. Madrid, you wonderful, Madrid, you wonderful, Madrid, you wonderful, ¡Mamita mía! They wanted to take you, They wanted to take you. But of your loyal sons, But of your loyal sons, But of your loyal sons, ¡Mamita mía! You'll never be ahsamed, You'll never be ahsamed. And all your tears, And all your tears, And all your tears, ¡Mamita mía! Will be avenged, Will be avenged. And all our slavery, And all our slavery, And all our slavery, ¡Mamita mía! Will be broken, Will be broken. |
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| IN DEN KASERNEN (Marlene Dietrich) In den Kasernen, da warten sie. In den Kasernen, da schult man sie. So war es immer, und endet nie. In den Kasernen, da warten sie. Von schönen Mädchen, da träumen sie Die schönen Mädchen verlassen sie So ist es immer, und endet nie. Von schönen Mädchen, da träumen sie. Kommt man sie holen, dann gehen sie. Ob sie auch wollen, das fragt man nie. So war es immer, das wissen sie. Kommt man sie holen, dann gehen sie. Auf Menschen Brüder, da schießen sie. Und Menschen Brüder befehlen sie. So war 's schon immer, und endet nie Auf Menschen Brüder, da schießen sie. Kreuz unter Kreuzen, so enden sie. Kreuz unter Kreuzen, wer denkt an sie. So war es immer, begreift man nie. Kreuz unter Kreuzen, so enden sie. In den Kasernen, da warten sie. Neue Kasernen, baut man für sie Es ist wie immer, und endet nie. In den Kasernen, da warten sie. |
IN DEN KASERNEN (English version revised by Riccardo Venturi) In the barracks they are waiting In the barracks they are trained The same old story that never ends In the barracks they are waiting. Of nice girls they are dreaming Of nice girls leaving them one day. The same old story that never ends Of nice girls they are dreaming. If they are called, so they must go they're never asked if they want to. The same old story that never ends If they are called, so they must go. At fellow men they aim and shoot, order'd by other fellow men. The same old story that never ends. At fellow men they aim and shoot. Cross amidst crosses, this is their end cross amidst crosses, who thinks of them. The same old story that never ends Cross amidst crosses, this is their end. In the barracks they are waiting In the barracks they are trained The same old story that never ends In the barracks they are waiting. |
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| DEN BORTSÅLDA (Trad., Helmi Brenner) Det bodde en herre på Sordavalla ö Han sålde sin dotter allt för en halva brö Du månn nu komma till det judiska land till att vandra Sjömännerna de kasta sina åror över bord Skön jungfrun hon vrider sina händer uti blod Kära mina sjömänner I vänten en stund Jag ser min moder komma i rosende lund Å kära min moder du haver ej mer än gulkedjorna två Den ena kan du sälja och köpa mej igen Jag vill ej komma till det judiska land till att vandra Ej haver jag mer än gullkedjorna två Men ingen kan jag sälja och lösa dej igen Du må nu komma till det judiska land till att vandra Sjömännerna de kasta sina åror över bord Skön jungfrun hon vrider sina händer uti blod Kära mina sjömänner I vänten en stund Jag ser min broder komma i rosende lund Å kära min broder du haver ej mer än gullfålarna två Den ena kan du sälja och köpa mej igen Jag vill ej komma till det judiska land till att vandra Ej haver jag mer än gullfålarna två Men ingen kan jag sälja och lösa dig igen Du må nu komma till det judiska land till att vandra Sjömännerna de kasta sina åror över bord Skön jungfrun hon vrider sina händer uti blod Å kära mina sjömänner i vänten en stund Jag ser min fästman komma i rosende lund Å kära min fästeman du haver ej mer än gullringarna två Den ena kan du sälja och lösa mej igen Jag vill ej komma till det judiska land till att vandra Ej haver jag mer än gullringarna två Den ena ska jag sälja, den andra ska du få Du må ej komma till det Judiska land till att vandra |
SOLD AWAY There lived a gentleman on Sordavalla Island He sold his daughter off for a half a loaf of bread May you wander the land of the Jews The sailors cast their oars overboard The beautiful virgin she wrings her hands till they bleed Oh my dear sailors wait a moment For I see my mother coming in the rosy grove Oh my dear mother you haven't more than two golden chains One you can sell, and release me again I do not want to wander in the lands of the Jews Oh yes I have only two golden chains But neither can I sell to release you again May you come to wander in the land of the Jews The sailors cast their oars overboard The beautiful virgin she wrings her hands till they bleed Oh my dear sailors wait a moment For I see my brother coming in the rosy grove Oh my dear brother you haven't more than two shimmering horses One you can sell, and release me again I do not want to wander in the lands of the Jews Oh yes I have only two shimmering horses But neither can I sell to release you again May you come to wander in the lands of the Jews The sailors cast their oars overboard The beautiful virgin she wrings her hands till they bleed Oh my dear sailors wait a moment For I see my loved one coming in the rosy grove Oh my dear one, you haven't more than two golden rings One you can sell and release me again I do not wander in the lands of the Jews I haven't more than two golden rings One shall I sell, the other shall you have You won't be wandering in the land of the Jews |
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DEL ANGELITO (Text: Violeta Parra; Inti Illimani) Ya se va para los cielos Ese querido angelito, a rogar por sus abuelos, por sus padres y hermanitos. Cuando se muere la carne, el alma busca su sitio dentro de una amapola o dentro de un pajarito. La tierra lo está esperando Con su corazón abierto; por eso es que el angelito parece que está despierto. Cuando se muere la carne el alma busca su centro en el brillo de una rosa o de un pececito nuevo. En su cunita de tierra lo arrullará una campana, mientras la lluvia le limpia su carita en la mañana. Cuando se muere la carne el alma busca su diana en los misterios del mundo que le ha abierto su ventana. Las mariposas alegres de ver al bello angelito alrededor de su cuna le caminan despacito. Cuando se muere la carne el alma va derechito a saludar a la luna, y de paso al lucerito. ¿Adónde se fue su gracia, dónde se fue su dulzura? ¿Por qué se cae su cuerpo como la fruta madura? Cuando se muere la carne el alma busca en la altura la explicación de su vida cortada con tal premura; la explicación de su muerte, prisionera en una tumba. Cuando se muere la carne el alma se queda oscura. |
LITTLE ANGEL'S RIN He's already raising to the heavens This beloved little angel To pray for his grandparents, for his parents and little brothers. When the flesh dies The soul seeks for its place Inside a poppy Or a sparrow. The ground is awaiting him With its heart open; therefore the little angel looks just as he was awake. When the flesh dies The soul seeks for its centre In the brightness of a rose Or of a young little fish. In his small ground cradle A belly will lull him to sleep, While the rain washes His face in the morning. When the flesh dies The soul seeks its place In the world's mystery That opened up its window. The merry butterflies As they see the nice little angel All around his cradle Walk on the top of their toes. When the flesh dies The soul goes straight To greet the moon And passing by the morning star. Where has his grace gone? Where has his sweetness ended? Why is his body falling As ripe fruit? When the flesh dies The soul seeks up there An explanation for his life So suddenly broken; An explanation for his death, prisoner in a tomb. When the flesh dies The soul is left in the darkness. |
RIN
DELL'ANGIOLETTO Già sale al cielo l'angioletto tanto amato a pregare per i nonni, papà, mamma e i fratellini. Quando muore la carne l'anima cerca un posticino dentro a un papavero o in un passerotto. La terra lo sta aspettando con il cuore aperto; per questo l'angioletto sembra proprio sia sveglio. Quando muore la carne l'anima cerca il suo centro nel fulgore di una rosa o di un pesciolino nuovo. Nella piccola culla di terra lo ninnerà una campana, mentre la luna gli lava il visetto la mattina. Quando muore la carne l'anima cerca il suo posto nel mistero del mondo che le ha spalancato la finestra. Le farfalle tutte allegre al vedere il bell'angioletto attorno alla culla vanno in giro pian pianino. Quando muore la carne l'anima va dritta dritta a salutare la luna, passando per la stella del mattino. Dove è andata la sua grazia, dov'è finita la sua dolcezza? Perché il suo corpo cade come la frutta matura? Quando muore la carne l'anima cerca lassù la spiegazione della sua vita interrotta così in fretta; il motivo della sua morte, prigioniera in una tomba. Quando muore la carne L'anima rimane oscura. |
| DE DRIE MAAGDEKENS (Trad., Heisa) Wij klommen op hoge bergen en wij keken te zeewaart in. Wij zagen een schipken varen. Drie maagdekens zaten erin Die ene was naar mijn zin. Deze allerschoonste jonkvrouwe Die in het schipken was, Die bood aan mij te drinken Uit een klaar kristallen glas Een wijn die edel was. 't Glas bracht z'ook aan haar mondje en dronk het 'n halven uit. 'Mijn trouw hoort u, mijn jonker. Mijn harte, die klopt voor u. Ja, mijn trouwe, die is u'. 'Wat zal ik er toch meê maken? Gij hebt noch slot noch goed. Gij zijt een haveloos meisken. En schoon, gij zijt zo zoet , ik u daarom laten moet'. 'Ben ik een haveloos meisken? Men vindt er zo vele meer. 'k ga in een kloosterken treden en dienen God den heer ja, dienen God den heer'. 'Vaarwel m'n schoone jonkvrouwe! Zo gij in 't klooster gaat, Laat bij een woordje mij weten Als gij de wijding ontfaat, hoe ge in die kledinge staat'. Als was 't acht dagen geleden, Haar vader en moeder was dood. Men vond geen rijkere vrouwe In zeven steden groot. Zij was nu van haven niet bloot. De ruiter heeft vernomen. Hij sprak: Ras, zadelt mijn peerd! Dat zij in 't klooster moest komen, is 't geen die 't meeste mij deert. Zij was wel de moeite weerd'. Als hij nu kwam aan 't klooster, Hij klopte met d'ijzeren ring. 'Waar is het jente nonneken die laatst de wijding ontving? Haal hier dat schone kind.' Het allerjongste nonneke Kwam voor de traliën staan Haar haarken was afgesneden Ze zei: 'Het vrijen, dat is gedaan. Jonker, wilt henen gaan'. Hij stak zijn paard met sporen, Tot onder den lindeboom groen. 'God, 'k heb ze mij zelve verloren!' En hij doorstak zich toen, Om geen hertzeer te voelen. Ten twee uur na de noene De nonne ging uit om brood, En onder den lindeboom groene Vond zij heur schoon zoetelief dood in 't bloed dat hij vergoot. Zij kustege en zij weendege, Zij nam hem op haar schoot. En zij riep zo meningweren: 'Schoon zoetelief, zijt gij dood? In uw eigen bloed versmoord!' Zij deed een huizeken bouwen Op haar schoon zoeteliefs graf, en zij ging er in gaan wonen Totdat ze d'adem gaf, Ja, totdat ze sterven mag. |
THE THREE MAIDENS We climbed on high mountains And we looked at the sea. We saw a little ship sail. There where three maidens onboard One just struck my senses. The most beautiful maid Who was in the ship, She offered me to drink Out of a clear crystal glass A very noble wine. The glass she took to her mouth And drank the half of it. 'Listen to me, my faithful nobleman. My heart, it beats for you Yes, my faithful, it is yours.' 'What shall I then take part to here? Thou have neither a castle nor any goods. Thou are a shabby girl. And nice, thou are so sweet, Therefore I must let you go'. 'Am I a shabby girl? One could find so many more. I should go into a closter And serve the good Lord Yes, serve the good Lord'. 'Farewell my handsome maid! So into the closter thou go, Let me know with a word As thou the ordination have received, How the clothes will suit thou'. As eight days were passed, Her father and mother died. One could find no richer maid In seven towns. She was now not poor at all. The cavalier heard wath happened. He said: 'Quick, saddle my steed! That she in the closter must come, There is nothing I love more dearly than her. She was well worth the effort'. As he arived at the closter He knocked with the iron ring. 'Where is the graceful nun Who received the holy blessing lately? Fetch that beautiful child'. The youngest nun of them all Came at the other side of the bars Her hair was cut off She said: 'It's done with our love. Nobleman, go your own way.' He hit his steed with the spurs Until under the linds green. 'God, I have lost myself!' And he stabbed himself , Not to feel any pain in the heart. Two hours after the noon The nun went out for collecting bread, And under the linds green She found her beloved dead In the blood that he shed. She kissed and she weeped, She took him on her lap. She cried so full of sorrow: 'My sweetheart , are you dead? Smothered in you own blood!' Sweetheart now you are dead She had a house built on her sweetheart's grave, She lived there until her final breath Till she also breathed her last, Yes, until she finaly could die. |
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| BALLADEN OM HERR FREDRIK ÅKARE OCH DEN
SÖTA FRÖKEN CECILIA LIND (Cornelis Vreeswijk) Från Öckerö loge hörs dragspel och bas fullmånen lyser som var den av glas Där dansar Fredrik Åkare kind emot kind med lilla fröken Cecilia Lind Hon dansar och blundar så nära intill Hon följer i dansen precis vart han vill Han för och hon följer lätt som en vind Men säg varför rodnar Cecilia Lind? Säg var det för det Fredrik Åkare sa: "-Du doftar så gott och du dansar så bra. Din midja är smal och barmen är trind. Vad du är vacker, Cecilia Lind!" Men dansen tog slut och vart skulle dom gå Dom bodde så nära varandra ändå Till slut kom dom fram till Cecilias grind "-Nu vill jag bli kysst", sa Cecilia Lind Vet hut Fredrik Åkare, skäms gamla karln Cecilia Lind är ju bara ett barn Ren som som en blomma, skygg som en hind "-Jag fyller snart sjutton", sa Cecilia Lind Och stjärnorna vandra och timmarna fly Och Fredrik är gammal, men månen är ny Ja, Fredrik är gammal men kärlek är blind "-Åh, kyss mig igen!", sa Cecilia Lind |
THE BALLAD OF FREDRIK ÅKARE AND
THE PRETTY CECILIA LIND From the barn in Öckerö loud came the sound of the accordion and bass The full moon shone as it was glass There danced Fredrik Åkare cheek to cheek With the little miss Cecilia Lind She dances and closes her eyes so next to him She follows his steps just where he wants He leads and she follows, as light as a breeze But say why is she blushing Cecilia Lind? Say it was because of what Fredrik Åkare said: "-You smell so good and dance so well. Your waist is small and your bosom is round. How beautiful you are, Cecilia Lind!" But the dans was over and where would they go They lived so close to each other Eventually they arrived before Cecilia's gate "-Now I want to be kissed", said Cecilia Lind Behave, Fredrik Åkare, shame on you old man Cecilia Lind is only a child and you know it Pure as a flower, shy as a hind "-I'm nearly seventeen", said Cecilia Lind And the stars went round and the hours flew And Fredrik is old, but the moon is new Yes, Fredrik is old but love is blind "-Oh, kiss me once more!", said Cecilia Lind |
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| LORE LAY (Clemens Brentano; Bären Gässlin) Zu Bacharach am Rheine Wohnt' eine Zauberin, Sie war so schön und feine Und riß viel Herzen hin. Und brachte viel' zu Schanden Der Männer ringsumher, Aus ihren Liebesbanden War keine Rettung mehr. Der Bischof ließ sie laden Vor geistliche Gewalt - Und mußte sie begnaden, So schön war ihr' Gestalt- Er sprach zu ihr gerühret: »Du arme Lore Lay! Wer hat dich denn verführet Zu böser Zauberei?« »Herr Bischof, laßt mich sterben, Ich bin des Lebens müd, Weil jeder muß verderben, Der meine Augen sieht. Die Augen sind zwei Flammen, Mein Arm ein Zauberstab - O legt mich in die Flammen! O brechet mir den Stab!« »Ich kann dich nicht verdammen, Bis du mir erst bekennt, Warum in deinen Flammen Mein eignes Herz schon brennt! Den Stab kann ich nicht brechen, Du schöne Lore Lay! Ich müßte dann zerbrechen Mein eigen Herz entzwei.« »Herr Bischof, mit mir Armen Treibt nicht so bösen Spott, Und bittet um Erbarmen Für mich den lieben Gott! Ich darf nicht länger leben, Ich liebe keinen mehr - Den Tod sollt Ihr mir geben, Drum kam ich zu Euch her. Mein Schatz hat mich betrogen, Hat sich von mir gewandt, Ist fort von mir gezogen, Fort in ein fremdes Land. Die Augen sanft und wilde, Die Wangen rot und weiß, Die Worte still und milde, Das ist mein Zauberkreis. Ich selbst muß drin verderben, Das Herz tut mir so weh, Vor Schmerzen möcht ich sterben, Wenn ich mein Bildnis seh. Drum laßt mein Recht mich finden, Mich sterben wie ein Christ! Denn alles muß verschwinden, Weil er nicht bei mir ist.« Drei Ritter läßt er holen: »Bringt sie ins Kloster hin! Geh, Lore! -Gott befohlen Sei dein bedrückter Sinn. Du sollst ein Nönnchen werden, Ein Nönnchen schwarz und weiß, Bereite dich auf Erden Zu deines Todes Reis'!« Zum Kloster sie nun ritten, Die Ritter alle drei, Und traurig in der Mitten Die schöne Lore Lay. »O Ritter, laßt mich gehen Auf diesen Felsen groß, Ich will noch einmal sehen Nach meines Lieben Schloß. Ich will noch einmal sehen Wohl in den tiefen Rhein Und dann ins Kloster gehen Und Gottes Jungfrau sein.« Der Felsen ist so jähe, So steil ist seine Wand, Doch klimmt sie in die Höhe, Bis daß sie oben stand. Es binden die drei Reiter Die Rosse unten an Und klettern immer weiter Zum Felsen auch hinan. Die Jungfrau sprach: »Da gehet Ein Schifflein auf dem Rhein; Der in dem Schifflein stehet, Der soll mein Liebster sein! Mein Herz wird mir so munter, Er muß mein Liebster sein!« Da lehnt sie sich hinunter Und stürzet in den Rhein. Die Ritter mußten sterben, Sie konnten nicht hinab, Sie mußten all verderben Ohn Priester und ohn Grab. Wer hat dies Lied gesungen? Ein Schiffer auf dem Rhein, Und immer hats geklungen Von dem Dreiritterstein: Lore Lay! Lore Lay! Lore Lay! Als wären es meiner drei. |
LORE LAY Near Bacharach at the Rhinestream, Lived a sorceress, She was so beautiful And took many men's hearts. And did much harm To the men around her, From her love's fetters Nobody could free himself. The bishop bade her come to him, By his clerical power – And had to pardon her, So beautiful was her figure. He said to her much touched: "You poor Lore Lay! Who has seduced you Towards evil magic?" "Lord Bishop, let me die, I am tired of life, Because everybody must perish Who looks into my eyes. My eyes are two flames, My arm a magic wand – O lay me down into the flames! O break the wand over me!" "I cannot condemn you, Until you tell me Why in these flames My own heart is already burning. The wand I cannot break over you, You beautiful Lore Lay! Else I'd have to break My own heart in two." "Lord Bishop, with poor me Do not jest so evilly, And pray for mercy For me to God. I may not live any longer, I love nobody anymore – Death you shall give me, This is why I came to you. – My lover has betrayed me, Has turned from me, Is gone away from here To a strange country. The eyes soft and wild, The cheeks red and white, The words quiet and mild This is my magic circle. I must perish in it myself. My heart hurts so much, I want to die from pain When I look at my image. Therefore let me find my judgment, Let me die like a Christian, As everything must perish, Because he is not here with me." Three knights he bids to come, "Bring her to the monastery, Go Lore! – To God I recommend your entranced senses. You shall become a little nun, A little nun black and white, In this world you shall prepare For your death's travels." To the monastery they now rode, The knights all three, And sad in their midst The beautiful Lore Lay. "O Knights let me go To this rock so large, I want to see once again My love's castle. I want to see once again Into the depth of the Rhine, And then go to the monastery And be God's virgin." The rock is so high, So steep is its wall, But she climbs to its summit, Until she stands on it. The three knights Fasten their horses And climb ever upwards Onto the rock. The maiden said: "There sails A small ship on the Rhine, He who stands in this ship Shall be my beloved. My heart becomes so wide awake, He must be my beloved! –" She leans downwards And falls into the Rhine. The knights had to die, They couldn't go back down, They had to perish all Without priest and without grave. Who has sung this song? A sailor on the Rhine, And always there came the sound From the Three Knights' Rock: Lore Lay Lore Lay Lore Lay As if there were three of them. |
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| BEI MIR BISTU SHEIN (Closet Klezma. Words by Jacob Jacobs, Sammy Cahn and Saul Chaplin, music by Sholom Secunda; English lyrics written for The Andrews Sisters by Sammy Cahn) Of all the boys I've known, and I've known some Before I first met you, I was lonesome And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light And this old world seemed new to me You're really swell, I have to admit you Deserve expressions that really fit you And so I've racked my brain, hoping to explain All the things that you do to me Bei mir bistu schein , bei mir bistu schein Bei mir bistu de scheinste af de velt Bei mir bist bistu schein, please let me explain It means you're the greatest in the land I could say " Bella, bella ", even say "Voonderbar" Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are I've tried to explain, bei mir bistu schein So kiss me and say you'll understand I could say " Bella, bella ", even say "Voonderbar" Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are I've tried to explain, bei mir bistu schein So kiss me and say you'll understand |
TO ME YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL |
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| CROW ON THE CRADLE (Trad., Peter Seeger) |
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| LAAT ME NIET ALLEEN (Jacques Brel) Laat me niet alleen toe vergeet de strijd Toe vergeet de nijd laat me niet alleen En die domme tijd vol van misverstand Ach vergeten want het was verspilde tijd Hoe vaak hebben wij met een snijdend woord Ons geluk vermoord Kom dat is voorbij Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Lief ik zoek voor jou in 't stof van de wegen De paarlen van regen de paarlen van dauw Ik zal heel m'n leven werken zonder rust Om jouw licht en lust goud en goed te geven Ik sticht een gebied waar de liefde droomt Waar de liefde loont waar jouw wil geschiedt Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Ik bedenk voor jou Woorden rood en blauw taal voor jouw alleen En met warme mond zeggen wij elkaar Eens was er een paar Dat zichzelf weer vond Ook vertel ik jou van de koning die Stierf van nostalgie hunkerend naar jou Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Want uit een vulkaan die was uitgeblust Breekt zich na wat rust toch het vuur weer aan En op oude grond ziet men vaak het graan Heel wat hoger staan dan op verse grond Het wit mint het zwart zwakheid mint de kracht Dat licht mint de nacht mijn hart mint jou wacht Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Nee ik huil niet meer Nee ik spreek niet meer want ik wil alleen Horen hoe je praat kijken hoe je lacht Weten hoe je zacht door de kamer gaat Nee ik vraag niet meer ik wil je schaduw zijn Ik wil je voetstap zijn ik wil je adem zijn Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen Laat me niet alleen |
NE ME QUITTE PAS (Jacques Brel) Ne me quitte pas Il faut oublier Tout peut s'oublier Qui s'enfuit déjà Oublier le temps Des malentendus Et le temps perdu A savoir comment Oublier ces heures Qui tuaient parfois A coups de pourquoi Le coeur du bonheur Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Moi je t'offrirai Des perles de pluie Venues de pays Où il ne pleut pas Je creuserai la terre Jusqu'après ma mort Pour couvrir ton corps D'or et de lumière Je ferai un domaine Où l'amour sera roi Où l'amour sera loi Où tu seras reine Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Je t'inventerai Des mots insensés Que tu comprendras Je te parlerai De ces amants-là Qui ont vu deux fois Leurs coeurs s'embraser Je te raconterai L'histoire de ce roi Mort de n'avoir pas Pu te rencontrer Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas On a vu souvent Rejaillir le feu De l'ancien volcan Qu'on croyait trop vieux Il est paraît-il Des terres brûlées Donnant plus de blé Qu'un meilleur avril Et quand vient le soir Pour qu'un ciel flamboie Le rouge et le noir Ne s'épousent-ils pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Je ne vais plus pleurer Je ne vais plus parler Je me cacherai là A te regarder Danser et sourire Et à t'écouter Chanter et puis rire Laisse-moi devenir L'ombre de ton ombre L'ombre de ta main L'ombre de ton chien Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas Ne me quitte pas |
DON'T LEAVE ME (English version by Des de Moor) Don't leave me now We must just forget All we can forget All we did till now Let's forget the cost Of the breath we've spent Saying words unmeant And the times we've lost Hours that must destroy Never knowing why Everything must die At the heart of joy Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now I'll bring back to you The clear pearls of rain From a distant domain Where rain never fell And though I grow old I'll keep mining the ground To deck you around In sunlight and gold I'll build you a desmene Where love's everything Where love is the king And you are the queen Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now For you I'll invent Words and what they meant Only you will know Tales of lovers who Fell apart and then Fell in love again Since their hearts stayed true There's a story too That I can confide Of that king who died From not meeting you Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now And often it's true That flames spill anew From ancient volcanos We thought were too old When all's said and done Scorched fields of defeat Could give us more wheat Than the fine April sun And when evening is nigh With flames overhead The black and the red Aren't they joined in the sky? Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now I will cry no more I will talk no more Hide myself somehow And I'll see your smile And I'll see you dance And I'll hear you sing Hear your laughter ring Let me be for you The shadow of your shadow The shadow of your hand The dog at your command Don't leave me now Don't leave me now Don't leave me now |
| VALLÅTAR
FRÅN GAMMELBONING (Swedish herding call from Gammelboning, arr. by Sven Ahlbäck for Suzanne Rosenberg) ............................................ |
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| YA SABES MI PARADERO (Guerra civil española) Los moros que trajo Franco en Madrid quieren entrar. Mientras queden milicianos los moros no pasarán. Si me quieres escribir ya sabes mi paradero Tercera Brigada Mixta primera línea de fuego. Aunque me tiren el puente y también la pasarela me verás pasar el Ebro en un barquito de vela. Diez mil veces que lo tiren diez mil veces los haremos. Tenemos cabeza dura los del cuerpo de ingenieros. En el Ebro se han hundido las banderas italianas y en los puentes sólo quedan las que son republicanas. |
YOU KNOW MY ADDRESS The Moors who are with Franco Want to enter Madrid As long as there are militiamen The Moors won't pass. If you want to write me, You know my address: Third Mixed Brigade First firing line. They can even sink me hte bridge And the gangway as well, You'll see me pass the Ebro On a nutshell. Ten thousand times they may blast the bridge, Ten thousand times we'll rebuild it. We are rather stubborn We the ponton engineers. In the Ebro have sunk The Italian flags. On the bridges are only left The republican ones. |
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| MIN
BRÖLLOPS DAG (Trad. Norwegian, arr. by Rosenberg Sjua - Sven Ahlbäck) Jag tänker så titt på min bröllopsdag Ha-di ra di rallan lej Om de blir oväder regn eller drag Ha-di ra di rallan lej Tra ra di-ra di dej Tra di-a di-a di dej Tra di da di-a di-a di da di dej Tra ra di-ra di dej Tra di-a di-a di dej Ha di ra di rallan lej Å vad skall jag svara när prästen mig spör Om jag har haft någon käresta för Ja då ska jag ge han ett sannskyldigt svar Att jag har älskat med en och envar Jag tänker så titt på min bröllopsdag Om de blir oväder regn eller drag |
MY
WEDDING DAY I think so often of my wedding day Ha-di ra di rallan lej Whether it will rain or blow Ha-di ra di rallan lej Tra ra di-ra di dej Tra di-a di-a di dej Tra di da di-a di-a di da di dej Tra ra di-ra di dej Tra di-a di-a di dej Ha di ra di rallan lej And what shall I answer when the priest asks me If I've loved anyone before I'll give him a trustful answer I have loved each and every one! I think so often of my wedding day Whether it will rain or blow |
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| KÄPPEE (Värttinä) Akoill on paha ajatus, on paha ajatus Tunto pitkätukkasilla, tunto tukkasilla juoni jonninjoutavilla, jonnin joutavilla Etten mie sinä, etten mie sinä ikänä saa en miestä mielehistä, miestä mielehist Miule hemmo, miule hemmo heitettihin nukkavieru viskattihin, vieru viskattiin Miule hemmo, miule hemmo heitettihin aivan käppee annettihin, käppee annettihin Jumavei ja jumavoi käppee heikko hemmo käppee heikko hemmo jumavei juu Hemmo on heikko, hemmo heikko ja käpeä vielä villi viinanjuoja, villi viinanjuoja Hemmo on heikko, hemmo heikko ja käpeä äkkiouto ja äkänen, äkkiouto Jumavei ja jumavoi, käppee heikko hemmo käppee heikko hemmo jumavei juu |
KÄPPEE (This resume in English comes from Värttinä's site) The old wives around here have hatched an evil plot. Yes, those long-haired, idle crones are scheming against me: they're going to make sure I'll never ever find the kind of man I want. So they threw this ragged fellow at me, dumped a real down-at-the-heels bum on me. Oh me and oh my, a no-account good-for-nothing. He's weak, this fellow they got me, weak, and a wild drinker besides. He's useless, unpredictable, and has a bad temper. Oh me and oh my, what a no-account, feeble fellow. |
BUONO A NULLA (Traduzione italiana di David McCarthy) Le comari hanno una brutta idea, le comari hanno una brutta idea Quelle donne dai lunghi capelli hanno un presentimento, hanno un presentimento Quelle sfaticate tessono una trama, tessono una trama Che io non avrò mai, che io non avrò mai non avrò mai l'uomo che desidero, l'uomo che desidero Un uomo, mi hanno sbolognato un uomo mi hanno rifilato uno scalcinato, uno scalcinato mi hanno rifilato Un uomo, mi hanno rifilato un uomo davvero un buono a nulla, un buono a nulla mi hanno rifilato Oddio oddio, un uomo fiacco e buono a nulla, e pure un gran beone, un gran beone Un uomo fiacco, fiacco e buono a nulla imprevedibile e irascibile, imprevedibile Oddio oddio, un uomo smilzo e fiacco un uomo smilzo e fiacco, oddio. |
| DE BALLADE VAN BOON (Laïs) In de Ballade van Boon kan alles gebeuren. De stad wordt een dorp en de straat wordt een stad. In de ballade van Boon zitten ramen en deuren. De wind waait ze open. De ziel gaat op stap. De verhalen van Boon brachten hem veel problemen. Als kind al op school en daarna in de kerk. «Gij zijt malade, mijn zoon», sprak zijn leraar verwaand. «Gij zijt ziek in uw kop», sprak zijn baas op het werk Vertel. Vertel. Vertellen kan hij wel. In de ballade van Boon komen kamers tot leven. Een man ziet een vrouw. De miserie begint. De verhalen van Boon, die kan niemand vergeten. De luiaard vindt werk. De pastoor krijgt een kind. In de ballade van Boon liggen tronies te slapen. Tot het potlood van Boon ze tot spreken brengt. In de ballade van Boon valt geen wijsheid te rapen. Een vrouw blijft een vrouw en een vent blijft een vent. Vertel. Vertel. Vertellen kan hij wel. En Boon kijkt naar de mensen. En de mensen kijken terug. En hij maakt nooit plezier Op hun rug. In de ballade van Boon komt het vlees op gedachten. De regen stroomt warm langs een kindergezicht. In de ballade van Boon liggen vrouwen te smachten. En Boon schrijft het neer in een werkmansgedicht. Een werkmansgedicht. Een werkmansgedicht. Boon schrijft het neer in zijn werkmansgeschrift. Vertel. Vertel. Vertellen kan hij wel. |
BOON'S BALLAD In Boon's Ballad all may happen. The town becomes village and the street becomes town. In Boon's ballad there are windows and doors. The wind opens them. The soul can fly away. Boon's plays cause him many problems. As a child in the school, later in the church. "You are sick, my son" told him the teacher, yelding. "You're out of your head", told him his employer. Tell. Tell. Telling is his talent. In Boon's ballad chambers come to life. A man seesa woman, the tragedy begins. Boon's stories, noone can forget them The lazy finds work to do, the priest will be father. In Boon's ballad, braggarts shut up. Until Boon's pencil allows them to speak. Boon's ballad contains no moral. A woman stays a woman and a man stays a man. Tell. Tell. Telling is his talent. And Boon looks at people. And they look back. But he never ever Pulls their leg. In Boon's ballad flesh awakens to thought Rain falls warm on a baby's face In Boon's ballad women burn with love. And Boon writes it all in a poem. A workman's poem A workman's poem Boon makes it his masterwork. Tell. Tell. Telling is his talent. |
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| DIE THÄLMANN-KOLONNE (or Spaniens Himmel, Spanish Civil War; Text: Karl Ernst; Melody: Paul Dessau; Sung by Ernst Busch) Spaniens Himmel breitet seine Sterne über unsre Schützengräben aus, und der Morgen grüßt schon aus der Ferne, bald geht es zum neuen Kampf hinaus Die Heimat ist weit, doch wir sind bereit, zu kämpfen und siegen für dich, Freiheit Dem Faschisten werden wir nicht weichen, schickt er auch die Kugeln hageldicht. Mit uns stehn Kameraden ohnegleichen, und ein Rückwärts gibt es für uns nicht. Die Heimat ist weit, doch wir sind bereit, zu kämpfen und siegen für dich, Freiheit Rührt die Trommel, fällt die Bajonette! Vorwärts Marsch ! Der Sieg ist unser Lohn! Mit der Freiheitsfahne brecht die Kette! Auf zum Kampf, das Thälmann - Bataillon! Die Heimat ist weit, doch wir sind bereit, zu kämpfen und siegen für dich, Freiheit |
THE THÄLMANN BATALION Spain's sky broadens its stars Above our trenches, And the morning cheers from far away, There will soon be new fights out there. Fatherland is wide, yet we are ready, to fight and win for you, freedom. We won't give up to the fascist, Although he pours bombs as rain. On our side stand matchless comrades, And a withdrawal doesn't suit us. Fatherland is wide, yet we are ready, to fight and win for you, freedom. Beat the drums, up the bayonets! March forward! Victory is our wage! Break the chain with freedom's flag! On to the fight, the Thälmann batalion! Fatherland is wide, yet we are ready, to fight and win for you, freedom. |
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| LILI MARLENE (Hans Leip, 1915; sung by Marlene Dietrich) Bei der Kaserne Vor dem großen Tor Steht 'ne Laterne Und steht sie noch davor Da wollen wir uns wieder seh'n Bei der Laterne woll'n wir steh'n Wie einst Lili Marleen. Wie einst Lili Marleen. Unsre beiden Schatten Sah'n wie einer aus Daß wir lieb uns hatten Das sah man gleich daraus Und alle Leute soll'n es seh'n Wenn wir bei der Laterne steh'n Wie einst Lili Marleen. Wie einst Lili Marleen. Deine Schritte kennt sie, Deinen schönen Gang Alle Abend brennt sie, Doch mich vergaß sie lang Und sollte mir ein Leid gescheh'n Wer wird bei der Laterne stehen Mit Dir Lili Marleen? Mit Dir Lili Marleen? Aus dem tiefen Raume, Aus der Erde Grund Hebt sich wie im Traume Dein verliebter Mund Wenn sich die späten Nebel drehn Wer wird bei der Laterne steh'n Mit Dir Lili Marleen? Mit Dir Lili Marleen? |
LILI MARLENE By the barracks compound, Before the big gate Stands a streetlight And if it stands today Then let's meet each other again By that streetlight we'll remain As once Lili Marlene. As once Lili Marlene. Both our shadows, Looked just like one That we loved each other That was easily seen by everyone, Then all the people shall behold When we stand by the streetlight As once Lili Marlene. As once Lili Marlene. She knows well your foot steps, Your own smart gait. Every evening she glows, Although she's forgotten me since long. Should something bad happen to me, Who will stand by the streetlight With you Lili Marlene? With you, Lili Marlene? From the deep spaces, From earth's ground, Flies away as in a dream, Your beloved mouth. When the night mists swirl and churn, Who will stand by the streetlight With you, Lili Marlene? With you, Lili Marlene? |
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| WHO BY FIRE (Leonard Cohen) And who by fire, who by water, who in the sunshine, who in the night time, who by high ordeal, who by common trial, who in your merry merry month of may, who by very slow decay, and who shall I say is calling? And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate, who in these realms of love, who by something blunt, and who by avalanche, who by powder, who for his greed, who for his hunger, and who shall I say is calling? And who by brave assent, who by accident, who in solitude, who in this mirror, who by his lady's command, who by his own hand, who in mortal chains, who in power, and who shall I say is calling? |
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| SILIBRAND (Swedish medieval ballad, arr. by Rosenberg Sjua) Silibrand var en så oviser man Allt under den linden så gröna Han gifte bort sin dotter i främmande land I riden så varliga genom lunden med henne Liten Karin hon frågar sin svärmoder så Hur länge plägar kvinnan med barnet gå I fyrtio veckor allt medan sju år Så länge plägar kvinnan med barnet gå Körsvennen sa'lar sin gångare grå Han sätter stolts Karin däruppå Silibrand körde uppåt höga loftet svala Där fick han se sin dotter i lunden fara Väl äst mig, väl äst mig vad jag nu ser Jag ser min dotter hon kommer till mig Härifrån for jag då jag var mö Nu kommer jag igen nu skall jag ock dö Min svärmor skall jag giva min silvskodda kniv Hon har nu förått mitt unga liv Liten Karin hon satte sig på förgyllande stol Silibrand drog av henne strumpor å skor Silibrand femnar ut kappan blå Där födder hon två karska svenbarnen så Liten Karin hon lade sig i sängen ned Gud låte mig inte leva tills jag dagen får se Små barnen så för dom till Kristi dop Liten Karin så för dom till kyrkogård |
SILIBRAND Silibrand was such an unwise man All under the linds so green He married away his daughter in a foreign country You ride so carefully through the wood with her Little Karin she asks her mother-in-law How long is a woman accustomed to go with her child In forty weeks all along seven years So long is a woman accustomed to go with her child The page saddles his grey steed He proudly puts Karin there up Silibrand rode upwards to the high roof swallow [?] There he could see his daughter travel in the wood Well are you well are you that I see now I see my daughter she comes to me Hence I travelled as I was a vergin Now I come again now I shall die too I shall give my mother-in-law my silver-laden knife She has now shortened [?] my young life Little Karin she sat on the gilded chair Silibrand threw away her stockings and shoes Silibrand [???] the blue mantel There she gives birth to two handsome boys Little Karin she laid herself down in the bed God don't let me live till I see the day So the little children were brought to the baptism Little Karin was brought to the cemetery |
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| QUAND
JEAN RENAUD DE GUERRE REVINT (Trad. française, voire quelques notations en italien ici; cette version est chantée par Claude Flagel) Le roi Renaud de guerre vint tenant ses tripes dans ses mains. Sa mère était sur le créneau qui vit venir son fils Renaud. - Renaud, Renaud, réjouis-toi! Ta femme est accouché d'un roi! - Ni de ma femme ni du fils je ne saurais me réjouir. Allez ma mère, allez devant, faites-moi faire un beau lit blanc. Guère de temps n'y resterai: à la minuit trépasserai. Mais faites-le moi faire ici-bas que l'accouchée n'l'entende pas. Et quand ce vint sur la minuit, le roi Renaud rendit l'esprit.. Il ne fut pas le matin jour tous les valets pleuraient très tous. Il ne fut temps de déjeuner que les servantes ont pleuré. - Mais dites-moi, mère, m'amie, que pleurent nos valets ici ? - Ma fille, en lavant nos chevaux ont laissé noyer le plus beau. - Oh pourquoi donc, mère m'amie, pour un cheval pleurer ainsi ? Quand Renaud reviendra, plus beaux chevaux ramènera. - Et dites-moi, mère m'amie, que pleurent nos servantes ici ? - Ma fille, en lavant nos linceuls ont laissé aller le plus neuf. - Oh pourquoi donc, mère m'amie, pour un linceul pleurer ainsi ? Quand Renaud reviendra, plus beau linceul ramènera. - Ah, dites-moi, mère m'amie, Qu'est-ce que j'entends cogner ici ? - Ma fille, ce sont les charpentiers Qui raccommodent le plancher. - Ah ! Dites-moi, mère m'amie, Pourquoi les cloches sonnent ici ? - Ma fille, c'est la procession Qui sort pour les rogations. - Mais, dites-moi, mère m'amie, C'est que j'entends chanter ici ? - Ma fille, c'est la procession Qui fait le tour de la maison. Or quand ce fut passé huit jours, A voulut faire ses atours. Or, quand ce fut pour relever, à la messe elle voulut aller, - Mais dites-moi, mère m'amie, quel habit mettrai-je aujourd'hui ? - Mettez le blanc, mettez le gris, mettez le noir pour mieux choisir. - Mais dites-moi, mère m'amie, qu'est-ce que ce noir-là signifie - A femme relèvant d'enfant, le noir lui est bien plus séant. Mais quand elles fut parmi les champs, Trois pastoureaux allaient disant : - Voici la femme du seignour Que l'on enterra l'autre jour ! - Ah ! Dites-moi, mère m'amie, Que disent ces pastoureaux-ci ? - Il disent de presser le pas, Ou que la messe n'aura pas. Or quand elle fut dans l'église entrée, un cierge on lui a présenté. Aperçoit en s'agenouillant la terre fraîche sous son banc. - Ah ! Dites-moi, mère m'amie, pourquoi la terre est rafraîchie? - Ma fille, ne puis plus vous celer, Renaud est mort et enterré. Puisque le roi Renaud est mort, voici la clé de mon trésor. Voici mes bagues et mes joyaux, prenez bien soin du fils Renaud. Terre, ouvre-toi, terre fends-toi, que j'aille avec Renaud, mon roi! Terre s'ouvrit, et se fendit, et ci fut la belle engloutie. |
WHEN KING RENAUD COMES BACK FROM WAR (Trad. French, read some notes in Italian here; this version was sung by Claude Flagel) King Renaud comes back from war Holding his guts in his hands His mother who was on the balcony Saw her son Renaud come - Renaud, Renaud, cheer you up! Your wife is pregnant of a king! - Neither for my wife nor for the son May I cheer up. Go, my mother, hurry up Have a fine white bed set ready for me I have short time to rest there: By midnight shall I pass away. But have it done down here So the pregnant cannot hear And when midnight came King Renaud gave up the ghost. Morning had not broken the next day And the valets were all weeping By the lunch time The maidservants were all crying. - But tell me mother my dear, Why do all our valets weep? - My daughter, while washing our horses They let the finest drown. - But tell me mother my dear, For a horse such a weeping? When Renaud comes back He will bring the finest of horses. - And tell me mother my dear, Why are all our maidservants crying? - My daughter, while washing our linen They let the newest go. - But tell me mother my dear, For a linen such a cry? When Renaud comes back He will bring the finest of linen. - And tell me mother my dear, What are all these beats I can hear? - My daughter, it's the carpenters Repairing the floor. - And tell me mother my dear, Why are the bells ringing? - My daughter, it is the procession Going out for the rogations. - But tell me mother my dear, What is this singing I can hear? - My daughter, it is the procession Turning around the house. Now when eight days had passed She wanted to dress up to the nines And when the time came for birth, She wanted to go to the mass. - But tell me mother my dear, Which dress shall I have today? - Take the white, take the grey, Take the black to choose best. - But tell me mother my dear, What does this black mean? - To a woman getting in the birth time, Black is the most convenient. But as they were amidst the fields Three shepherds went saying: - There's the wife of that getleman We undertook the other day! - But tell me mother my dear, Why are they saying those shepherds? - They say to hurry up, Otherwise we'll be late at the mass. As she stepped inside the church, She was offered a candle. As she knelt down to pray She felt the earth shiver under her bench. - But tell me mother my dear, Why is the earth shivering? - My daughter, I cannot hide it any longer, Renaud is dead and buried. Since King Renaud is dead, Here is the key to my treasures. Take my rings and my jewels, Take care of Renaud's son. Earth, open up, earth burst open, Let me join Renaud, my king! Earth opened up, earth burst open, And so was the beauty swallowed. |
KYNGE RENAWDES HAMECAMYNG FRAE WARRE ("Lallans" version by Riccardo Venturi) Kynge Renawde frae War came hame Hys Guttes houdan in hys Handes. Hys Mither stoode att her Bowers Window Spyed her Sonne Renawde a-cumman. Renawde, Renawde cheere in Rejoycyng! Thy Wyffe is wyth Chylde of a Kynge! Alas, bit nouther for Sonne and Wyffe Can I rejoyce in cheeryng sweete. Gae then my Mither, gae thou in Haste, and mak my Bedde baith safte and white! Schort Tymme haue I for to rest there, By Midnichte am I to passe awa'. Bit haue thy Bedde made doun here, thy pregnaunt Wyffe so maun not heare. An whan the Nychte war waye vp mete Kynge Renawde hee turnit a Ghoste. Not had ybroke the Morn to Daune, an a' the Seruaunts were a-weepynge, an' by the Howre of Meale-Eatynge the Maydens a' wer crying in the ha'. Now telle mee my Mither deire, Quhy gar a' owre Servaunts wepe sae luid? Dochter, a-laugan owr Horsses They garde the ffyneste droune. Now telle mee o Mither sae deire, is a' this Wepynge for ae Horsse? Whan Renawde sa' cume hame heele brynge the ffyneste Steides. An telle mee o Mither sae deire, Quhy gar a' owre Maydenes wepe sae luid? Dochter, a-laugan owre Linen they garde the neweste gae. Now telle mee o Mither sae deire, is a' this Wepynge for ae Pys o' Linen? Whan Renawde sa' cume hame heele brynge the ffyneste Hollan! An telle mee o Mither sae deire, Wha bee a' these Slaughs I do heare? Dochter, itt is bit the Carpyntere a-fittan the Flvre as thou can heare. Now telle mee o Mither sae deire, Quhy are a' these Clockes a-ringan? Dochter, itt is bit the holy Processyoun a-gand a' around ffor Rogacyoun. An telle me nowe o Mither sae deire, Wha is a' this Syngyng that I do heare? Dochter, itt is bit the holy Processyoun a gand a' around and around owre Huis. Eicht Dayes, eicht Dayes had barely gaed Whan shee woud make vp to the Nynes Tymme was cum for her to gyue Byrthe an shee longit for the Mass to heare. Bit telle mee now o Mither sae deire, Wilk Attyre am I to-daye to dress in? O tak the whyte, o tak thou the grey, O tak the swarte gin yee chvse best. Now telle mee o Mither sae deire, wha sall itt stand a' this swarte ffor? To a Wyfman gaend to gyue Byrthe is Swart ffar an ffar the beste Colour. Bitt as they yode acrosse the Fieldes Thre Schepherds yode an sayde sae Heres the Wyffue o' that gentyll Laird wee toke an buryit a yesteren Day! Now telle mee o Mither sae deire, wha gar these Schepherdes saye? They saye wee maun mak haste an rin gin wee wull nae the Holy Mass misse. An whan shee steppit into the Kyrke shee was handit a Kendyll o' Waxe. An whan for Prayer shee fe' doun on her Knies Shee felte the Earthe shiver vndir her Benke. Now telle me o Mither sae deir, Quhy gars the Earthe shiver sae strang? Dochter, itt is Tymme now to tell thee Renawde is deid an buryit ffor lang. Syn Kynge Renawde is buryit an deid heres the Lutyll to a' my Gowd an Rynges. O tak a' my Rynges o tak a' my Joyes O tak a' thy Care foor Renawdes Sonne. O Earth, oppen wide, o Earth berst in twa lett mee rejoyne Renawde my Kynge! An Earth opnit wide an Earth barst in twa an sae was a' that beautë engoulfryt. |
| SHNIRELE
PERELE (Trad. Yiddish, sung also by The Klezmatics) Shnirele perele, gildene fon, mashiekh ben david zizt oybn on. Er halt a bekher in der rekhter hant, makht a brokhe afn gantsn land. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Shnirele perele, gildene fon, mashiekh ben david zizt oybn on. Er halt a bekher in der rekhter hant, makht a brokhe afn gantsn land. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Vet er kumen tsu forn veln zayn gute yorn Vet er kumen tsu raytn veln zayn gute tsaytn Vet er kumen tsu geyn veln di yidn in Eretz Yisroyl aynshteyn. Oy vet er kumen tsu forn Oy veln zayn gute yorn Oy vet er kumen tsu raytn Oy veln zayn gute tsaytn Oy vet er kumen tsu geyn Oy veln di yidn in Eretz Yisroyl aynshteyn. Shnirele perele, gildene fon, mashiekh ben david zizt oybn on. Er halt a bekher in der rekhter hant, makht a brokhe afn gantsn land. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Shnirele perele, gildene fon, mashiekh ben david zizt oybn on. Er halt a bekher in der rekhter hant, makht a brokhe afn gantsn land. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. Oy omen veomen, dos iz vor, meshiekh vet kumen hayntiks yor. |
RIBBONS
AND PEARLS Pearl-laces, golden flags, the messiah, son of David, is above us. He holds a goblet in the right hand, gives a blessing over the whole earth. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Pearl-laces, golden flags, the messiah, son of David, is above us. He holds a goblet in the right hand, gives a blessing over the whole earth. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Should he come by riding, good years are ahead. Should he come by horse, good times are ahead. Should he come by foot, all the Jews will be settled in Israel. Should he come by riding, good years are ahead. Should he come by horse, good times are ahead. Should he come by foot, all the Jews will be settled in Israel. Pearl-laces, golden flags, the messiah, son of David, is above us. He holds a goblet in the right hand, gives a blessing over the whole earth. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Pearl-laces, golden flags, the messiah, son of David, is above us. He holds a goblet in the right hand, gives a blessing over the whole earth. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. Amen, amen, this is the truth, the messiah will come this year. |
PERLEN-SCHNUR Perlen-Schnur, goldene Fahne, der Messias, Sohn Davids, sitzt auf dem Thron. Er hält einen Becher in der rechten Hand, macht einen Segen über das ganze Land. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Perlen-Schnur, goldene Fahne, der Messias, Sohn Davids, sitzt auf dem Thron. Er hält einen Becher in der rechten Hand, macht einen Segen über das ganze Land. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Wird er kommen gefahren, werden es gute Jahre sein. Kommt er geritten, werden sein gute Zeiten. Wird er kommen zu Fuß, werden alle Juden in das Land Israel einziehen. Wird er kommen gefahren, werden es gute Jahre sein. Kommt er geritten, werden sein gute Zeiten. Wird er kommen zu Fuß, werden alle Juden in das Land Israel einziehen. Perlen-Schnur, goldene Fahne, der Messias, Sohn Davids, sitzt auf dem Thron. Er hält einen Becher in der rechten Hand, macht einen Segen über das ganze Land. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Perlen-Schnur, goldene Fahne, der Messias, Sohn Davids, sitzt auf dem Thron. Er hält einen Becher in der rechten Hand, macht einen Segen über das ganze Land. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. Oh, Amen, oh Amen, das ist wahr, Messias wird dieses Jahr kommen. |
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