Viche - 02 - Moj Baba

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My papa (in memory of my father)

In winter night when snow covers all,
You can feel smoke and hear wood crunching inside,
Papa brings us all around the stove,
And then comes his melancholy,
And begins that old story,
That we heard thousand times,
But papa’s eyes still have that sparkle,
And he doesn’t care if anyone listens…

My papa was a handsome lad,
He pinched many country girl cheeks,
He had a fine dish in every town,
In Basaid, Melenci, Elemir and Taras,
He lived with full lungs in every way that he could,
So he had a lot of girls,
They were breathless when they see him,
On every dance, fest or fair,

Grandpa said to papa how to get married,
On the corner less expenses, bless you,
Take her to the well to wash her pretty face,
So makeup and fake eyelashes would come off,
Pull her hair, make sure it isn’t a wig,
And then marry her if you like her,

Take few quarters in his pocket and buys a beer,
Drinks it slowly, pissing of the barmen,
And when he gets his pocket watch and slides his hat a little bit,
Who ever sees him must admire him,
One time he walked a town like that,
And saw my mama for the first time,
He married her, other girls cried,
They called his name in long nights,

Grandpa said to papa how to get married,
On the corner less expenses, bless you,
Take her to the well to wash her pretty face,
So makeup and fake eyelashes would come off,
Pull her hair, make sure it isn’t a wig,
And then marry her if you like her,

Licence : All Rights Reserved


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