Když mě brali za vojáka
Jaromír NohavicaOriginale | English version by Roman Kostovski |
KDYŽ MĚ BRALI ZA VOJÁKA Když mě brali za vojáka, stříhali mě dohola, vypadal jsem jako blbec, jak i všichni dokola, -la, -la, -la, jak i všichni dokola. Zavřeli mě do kasáren, začali mě učiti, jak mám správný voják býti a svou zemi chrániti, -ti, -ti, -ti, a svou zemi chrániti. Na pokoji po večerce ke zdi jsem se přitulil, vzpomněl jsem si na svou milou, krásně jsem si zabulil, -lil, -lil, -lil, krásně jsem si zabulil. Když přijela po půl roce, měl jsem zrovna zápal plic, po chodbě furt někdo chodil, tak nebylo z toho nic, nic, nic, nic, tak nebylo z toho nic. Neplačte, vy oči moje, ona za to nemohla, protože mladá holka lásku potřebuje, tak si k lásce pomohla, -hla, -hla, -hla, tak si k lásce pomohla. Major nosí velkou hvězdu, před branou ho potkala, řek' jí, že má zrovna volnej kvartýr, tak se sbalit nechala, -la, -la, -la, tak se sbalit nechala. Co je komu do vojáčka, když ho holka zradila, nashledanou, pane Fráňo Šrámku, písnička už skončila, -la, -la, -la, jakpak se vám líbila, -la, -la, -la? No nic moc extra nebyla. | WHEN I WAS DRAFTED AS A SOLDIER When I was drafted as a soldier They made me leave my old hometown They shaved my head I looked so stupid Like the fellas all around ‘round ‘round ‘round Like the fellas all around They locked me up right in the barracks And they started teaching me The skill to kill for my great country The way a soldier has to be be be be The way a soldier has to be After taps up on my bunk bed I cuddled closer to the wall I thought about my little sweetheart And quietly I had to bawl, bawl, bawl, bawl. And quietly I had to bawl When she came to pay visit I was bed bound with the flu Someone kept on walking on us So there was nothing we could do do do do So there was nothing we could do Don’t you fall my gentle teardrops She really can’t be blamed for much A pretty girl needs a true love And a soft, endearing touch, touch, touch, touch And a soft, endearing touch The major wears a lot more medals She met him at the entrance gate He said his pad rather empty And so he took her to his place, place, place, place And so he took her to his place Why should you care about a soldier When his girl dumps him cold Fare thee well my Frankie Šrámek This story’s really getting old, old, old, old Perhaps it’s meant to be untold |